


Infelix Felicis

by eleigh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Fred Lives, Fremione - Freeform, HP: EWE, Romance, slow buildup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleigh/pseuds/eleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bout of bad luck leaves Hermione in a fix when every plan she’s made for herself seems to fall through. Can Fred help her turn her luck around? Post-war Fremione. Fred isn’t dead, obviously.</p><p>Rated T for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Luck Begins

Hermione Granger hadn’t had the best luck since the war ended. It wasn’t as if things were going so badly, really, but they certainly weren’t going the way she’d planned. And for Hermione, that was pretty much the same thing.

After the war, she’d helped the Order begin the repairs on Hogwarts and Hogsmeade before setting off to Australia to try to find her parents. It had been hard work, following the trail of the apparently avid travelers that she had created on the day she lost them. Three months into her search, she lost the trail of Wendell and Monica Wilkins and had no idea how to find it again. She fell to her knees in the middle of a suburban street and cried until she noticed homeowners peeking through their curtains at her. Worried they would call the police, Hermione returned to her hotel, disheveled and puffy-eyed. She’d been meant to find them ages ago, and she was no closer now, at the end of September, than she had been when she started in July. It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t find them. But it was a much more difficult task than she had anticipated. Realizing that it would be foolish to continue alone without any idea where to look, Hermione returned to England to ask for help.

With nowhere to go after her return from Australia, Hermione moved back into the Burrow. She’d planned on returning to live with her parents for a while, as they readjusted to their real lives again, but when she’d been unable to find Monica and Wendell Wilkins, the thought of returning alone to her childhood home alone felt like lead in her stomach. Upon her return, Mrs. Weasley made it perfectly clear, in that demanding but motherly way of hers, that Hermione would always be welcome at the Burrow, even for a more permanent stay, so Hermione moved into the twins’ old room and began to adjust her plans.

To start, she’d have to make arrangements to have her parents located. Then she could get a job and get started on making a difference in the magical world.

A few days after her return from Australia, Hermione set up a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had retained the title of Minister of Magic after the war. Swallowing the pride that had led her to set out to find her parents on her own, she requested the Ministry’s help. After she’d explained her reasoning for modifying their memories and sending them to Australia in the first place, Kingsley had agreed. Whether out of fondness for Hermione or to begin repaying the debt that Britain’s magical society owed the Golden Trio she wasn’t sure, but Hermione was grateful for any help that she could get.

The lead weight that had dropped into her stomach when she returned from Australia seemed to have grown with each passing day. It was becoming unbearable – she needed to find them. But with the Ministry’s help, the search was bound to go quickly. Her parents would be back in no time. He would contact the Australian Ministry and have them begin a search for Hermione’s parents. And then they could be a family again.

“I can’t thank you enough, Kingsley,” she said, shaking his hand at the end of the meeting. “Now I can put my focus into those Ministry applications that I’ve been putting off!”

Kingsley, for his part, looked surprised and a little abashed as he responded. “Hermione, all Ministry jobs require N.E.W.T.s. You knew that, didn’t you? You’ll have to finish at Hogwarts before you can apply for a job here.”

Hermione spluttered, struggling to find anything to say to the Minister.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like school, obviously. She was Hermione Granger, bookworm, after all. It wasn’t that she wanted special treatment. But she didn’t think she could go back to Hogwarts so soon. Not after she’d seen Tonks and Remus and Lavender…

“Minister, I thought that my contributions to the war would count for something,” she pleaded. Special treatment or no, Hermione did not want to go back and see the ghosts of people they’d lost haunting one of her favorite places in the magical world.

“And they will count. When you have the proper qualifications, you’ll be able to get whatever job you like. But until then, I can’t help you. I’m sorry, Hermione, but my hands are tied on this one.”

* * *

It had taken all of Hermione’s energy to hold it together as she made her way down the Ministry’s corridors, to the lift, to the fireplaces lining the atrium. But hold it together she did. Until she got to the Burrow, that is.

When the fireplace spit her out onto the Weasley’s eclectic living room furniture, Hermione collapsed onto the nearest armchair, crying. She’d cried more since losing her parents’ trail than she had since her first year at Hogwarts when she’d had no friends. But the stresses of the war, her losses, and of the start of her adult life were catching up to her. Which is why, when Fred and George Weasley arrived in their parents’ living room, the first thing they saw was Hermione in tears.

They exchanged one of their twin looks and quietly crouched on either side of Hermione’s armchair.

“Hermione,” Fred whispered, nudging her shaking shoulder.

“Who do we need to hex?” George continued.

“If it’s Ickle Ronniekins again…”

“We can take care of that little git, no problem!”

Hermione, now caught somewhere between laughing and crying, raised her head off her arms enough to look at the twins and shake her head.

“Not Ron. Kingsley,” she mumbled before dropping her head again.

“The Minister!”

“Might be tough, Mione.”

“We’ll have to consult our sources, Gred.”

“See what we can do, Forge.”

“Can’t have the Minister of Magic walking around breaking teenage girls’ hearts, now can we?”

This time, Hermione sat up, rubbing her cheeks roughly with the heel of her hand and glaring at Fred and George.

“I don’t know that I like what you’re implying, boys.”

“And what might that be, dearest Hermione?” Fred asked with the most innocent smile he could muster.

Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms. “What are you even doing here?” she asked as the twins snickered.

“Wanted to nick some food from mum. Didn’t feel like cooking tonight,” George replied. He stood and made his way to the kitchen, leaving Hermione behind with the still-smirking Fred.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be adults or something?” Hermione said, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“What’s the fun in that?” Fred responded. When Hermione didn’t reply, he continued. “What’s the Minister gone and done then?”

Without taking her eyes from the crack in the ceiling, Hermione explained what had happened at her visit to the Ministry.

“It’s not that I blame him! It’s not his fault – N.E.W.T.s have always been required for Ministry positions. I just thought—“

“You just thought that, as the brightest witch of your age and a war hero, they’d give you a break for once in your life. They should have. You certainly deserve one,” Fred interrupted quietly.

Hermione sighed and finally met his eyes. “I just don’t want to go back there.”

She didn’t look like she was going to cry anymore, but Fred had never seen Hermione look so haunted. She quickly shook her head and once again she was the determined bookworm he’d always known.

“And term’s already begun – I’ll be so behind! It’s not like I can really count on Harry or Ron to tutor me.”

Fred snorted at the thought of his youngest brother teaching Hermione much of anything at all. No, if she went back to Hogwarts, she’d have to catch up on her own. Not that it would be much of a challenge for Hermione. She’d probably been studying for her N.E.W.T.s since her fourth year.

“Ah well if your booming Ministry career doesn’t pan out for you, we can always use an extra hand with potions and charms over at the shop,” George told her from the doorway. “Ready, Forge? I’ve got us some rations to get us through the evening!”

“Right-o. We’ll be off then! Cheer up, Hermione. Your luck’s bound to change for the better!”

But it wasn’t. And it didn’t. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger’s bad luck was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I'm looking forward to sharing this story with you. I'll be publishing once a week on Fridays. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think or give me suggestions. Thank you for reading!


	2. The Ghosts of Hogwarts

After realizing that her move to the Burrow would be slightly more permanent than she’d originally planned, Hermione made Fred and George’s old room more her own. She changed the walls from their favorite bright orange to a more subtle pale yellow color, and conjured shelves for her books. She finally unpacked her clothes from the suitcase she’d travelled Australia with, and placed pictures of her favorite moments and people in prominent places around the room. It felt like hers, and she was very pleased with it.

Now, however, she was busy repacking her clothes, books and photos back into her school trunk. If everything today went as planned, Hermione wouldn’t be living at the Burrow any longer. The term had started while Hermione was still abroad searching for her parents, but it was for the best, really, that she was going back to Hogwarts. Ginny had decided to go back to finish her education under real professors, and Harry, the ever-devoted boyfriend, had followed after her to get his N.E.W.T.s so he could become an auror. Ron had gone too, so as not to be left behind by his best friend. But Hermione, the most studious of them all, had gone to Australia instead.

Hermione was running late, so she levitated her trunk and Crookshanks’s cage down the stairs and out the kitchen door, calling goodbye to Molly as she went. Giddy with anticipation, Hermione turned on the spot and apparated to the Hogwarts front gate.

“It’s Hermione Granger. I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall,” she told the wrought iron in front of her.

At her words, the gate swung open, and Hermione stepped inside. It was haunting. Hermione had been there for the battle. She’d been there for the funerals and the beginning of the restorations, but all of those memories had a fuzzy, dreamlike quality to them. All of the detail seemed blurred out, and the conversations all sounded like people speaking underwater. It was as if she hadn’t really been there at all, and now, months later, she was seeing Hogwarts again for the first time since the war.

It hurt how much it looked the same. The castle had been restored to look just like it had before the war. Walls that had crashed down in May were standing again as if nothing had happened. She walked across a lawn that, last she could remember, was spattered with blood and scattered with the bodies of enemies and friends. The weight of what had happened here pressed down on her until she was gasping for air, until she had to sit down on her trunk with her eyes closed, forcing air into lungs that had decided that breathing here, where so many had died, was too much.

Professor McGonagall, wondering why her most punctual and responsible student was late to their meeting, found Hermione like this, sitting on her trunk on the path up to the front door of the castle, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deeply, and talking to herself.

“Come on Hermione, it’s just the castle. You just have to open your eyes. You do it all the time. Just open them and breathe. You’ll be okay.”

“Miss Granger!” Minerva McGonagall called from a few paces away. “Are you alright? When you didn’t show up for your appointment I feared the worst.”

At this, Hermione’s eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet.

“Oh, yes Professor. I apologize! I was just…overwhelmed,” she replied, still making every effort to breathe nomally.

“It is rather different than it was when you left in June. Come. Tell me about your search for your parents while we head inside.”

Hermione levitated her belongings to trail behind her and began to retell the story of her trip through Australia through her meeting with the Minister. She focused on what she was telling the professor, trying her hardest to block out the sights and sounds of the castle around her.

When at last they reached the Headmistress’s office and McGonagall announced the password ( _felis_ ), Hermione relaxed. She’d never spent much time in this office in her previous years at Hogwarts, but even still she could tell that this was one part of the castle that had changed since the war. She was comforted by the absence of Dumbledore’s many gadgets, and their replacement with books, photos, and personal effects that clearly belonged to the new Headmistress. On the desk Hermione even recognized the familiar tin of biscuits that the professor favored.

“Have a seat, Miss Granger. Let’s hear why you needed a meeting with me so urgently.” McGonagall said, sitting behind her desk and leaning forward on her elbows, staring at Hermione over the steepled tips of her fingers.

Hermione perched herself at the very edge of her seat and began to explain herself. “Well you see, Professor, I need to get my N.E.W.T.s so that I can work at the Ministry. And to get my N.E.W.T.s, I need to come back to school and finish my seventh year. So I was hoping that you’d let me come back.”

“Miss Granger, it’s nearly October. We’re a month into the term. I know that you’re an advanced student, but I hardly think that you’ll be able to catch up sufficiently to earn your N.E.W.T.s!”

“But, Professor McGonagall, you know that I had legitimate reasons for being unable to return at the start of term! And you know that I will work harder than anyone to catch up,” Hermione protested.

“I understand, Miss Granger. And if the circumstances were different, I would make every effort to bend the rules and allow you to come back to school this year. Unfortunately, however, I had to turn away one of your former classmates earlier this week. Mr. Malfoy also had legitimate reasons for missing the first month of term, as his parents have been on trial with the Wizengamot for their involvement in the war. Since I did not make an exception for him, I am unfortunately unable to make one for you. I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but my hands are tied. You will have to wait until school starts again next year to join us for your N.E.W.T.s.” Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione with sympathy, clearly thinking of the scene she’d come across when she found Hermione earlier that day. “Perhaps it’s for the best, no? You can readjust to Britain after the war. Things have changed and you deserve some time off after everything you’ve done for the wizarding world.”

Hermione didn’t want time off, and she didn’t want to be pitied or spoken down to. The war had been hard on everyone, and it seemed Professor McGonagall thought her too weak to come back to Hogwarts this term.

“Then I’m sorry for wasting your time, Professor,” Hermione said shortly, “I’ll certainly be back next year. I’ll see myself out of the castle.”

She turned and left an openmouthed Minerva McGonagall speechless behind her desk. In all the years she’d known Hermione, she’d never known the conscientious girl to speak to a professor in such a tone. Clearly, the war had changed more than just the castle.

Hermione stormed out of Hogwarts, glad that she hadn’t told Harry, Ron and Ginny that she’d be joining them for the term. What she’d hoped would be an exciting surprise had turned into a lonely disappointment that at least she wouldn’t have to explain. The farther Hermione walked from the castle, the angrier she got. The last thing Hermione wanted was to relax. All she wanted to do was get her N.E.W.T.s so that she could change the laws so that what happened when Voldemort rose to power could never happen again. She wanted everyone’s hands to stop being tied so that she could _do_ something in this world that had told her since she was eleven years old that she _just wasn’t good enough_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers, and thank you again for joining me on this adventure. I’m enjoying writing this story, and I truly hope you enjoy reading it. I was planning on posting a new chapter every Friday but if there’s interest, I could probably post twice a week (unless circumstances prevent me from doing so). Let me know what you think! I hope you’ll stick with me (and Hermione) as she figures out her bad luck. Thank you for reading! –E. Leigh
> 
> P.S. I promise you there will be more interactions between Hermione and Fred in the coming chapters. These first two were just a bit of setup. :)


	3. Three Means Trouble

Hermione was still fuming when she arrived at the Burrow. She let her trunk and Crookshanks's cage fall to the ground with a clatter, earning her a hiss from the ginger cat as she let him out again.

Hermione glanced around her room and, with a resigned wave of her wand, sent her things back to the places they had resided before she'd packed up with the intention of moving back into Hogwarts. The thought of spending the rest of the day in her bed with a good book was enticing. But Hermione Granger had never been one to mope and she'd spent too much time crying over the last few weeks. It was time to pick herself up and get back to work. Her plans may have fallen through for the moment but that didn't mean that she couldn't put her time to good use.

There was no place better to get her life back on track than Diagon Alley, the first part of the wizarding world she’d ever seen. The place that had inspired her to learn as much as she could about magic and the history of her new world. Maybe Diagon Alley could help again now. Hermione grabbed her beaded bag from its hook and rushed back down the stairs to the den. She'd already reached into the flowerpot for the floo powder when Mrs. Weasley stopped her. 

"Hermione! Oh you had me worried sick! I came to offer you lunch and all of your things were gone. I thought you'd moved out without telling us!"

Hermione slowly released the powder in her hands back into the pot and turned to face Mrs. Weasley, abashed. Mrs. Weasley and her maternal instincts read Hermione’s face immediately.

"Hermione Granger, did you plan to tell me that you were moving out of the Burrow?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes accusingly. 

"I was going to owl," Hermione responded lamely, feeling embarrassed that she’d been so hasty that morning after everything the Weasleys had done for her. She had planned on owling once she was settled at Hogwarts. And she'd truly had every intention of explaining the situation to the Weasleys before she left for that morning. But she’d overslept, and the matriarch of the Weasley family was nowhere to be found as Hermione scarfed down some toast. So Hermione had rushed to leave to make it to her meeting with Professor McGonagall in time and neglected to tell Molly anything about her plans.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her sternly for a moment, and then softened. 

“It’s alright, dear. I know how you were looking forward to finishing at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Ginny. But if you’re back that must mean…”

“Professor McGonagall says that I have to wait until next term to complete my N.E.W.T. training.” Hermione held up a hand and continued, despite the protests that Molly was about to let loose. “It seems Malfoy got there before I did, and since she refused to grant him entry after term had begun, she had to do the same for me. It’s only fair – I’ve said a thousand times I don’t want special treatment. So, I’ll go next year. And I’ll study in the meantime. I was actually headed out to Diagon Alley to put in some applications for work. I want to carry my own weight around here.”

“Oh, Hermione, you know that’s not necessary. You’re like family to us,” Molly replied warmly, her previous ire entirely forgotten.

“Mrs. Weasley, if I can’t go to Hogwarts, or get a job at the Ministry, please at least let me feel useful in the Burrow. A job will give me something to do,” Hermione reasoned.

“Alright, dear. As long as it’s what you want. But if you’re going to Diagon Alley, would you mind terribly dropping off some food with the twins? I know they’ve been working like madmen lately, and I scarcely think they have time to eat, what with all the new products they’ve been creating,” Mrs. Weasley said, worried.

Hermione quickly agreed, and before she knew it, Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the kitchen, pulling together enough leftovers to last the boys at least a few days. With a bright smile, and a reminder to say hello to everyone, Mrs. Weasley finally sent her on her way.

Unfortunately, it was not as productive an afternoon as she had hoped. Hermione tried to put in applications at nearly every shop on Diagon Alley, from the Leaky Cauldron, to the Magical Menagerie where she’d gotten Crookshanks in her third year, to Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, to all of the bookshops (of course). It seemed that, although most of the shops had posters announcing their search for employees, their positions had very recently been filled, and the signs had yet to be removed. The bad luck that had been following her around lately seemed too stubborn to give up even long enough to let her find a job.

Dejected, Hermione was about to return to the Burrow, when she remembered that Fred and George’s food was still shifting around in the beaded bag over her shoulder. Well, if nothing else, at least this terribly unlucky day will end with some laughs, she thought as she made her way through the bustle of early-evening shoppers heading home for dinner. The purple and orange monstrosity at 93 Diagon Alley was flashing with advertisements for new products, and Hermione was hypnotized by the storefront.

Hermione had been to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes a few times since the war, usually to say hello on a trip to Diagon Alley, or to drop something off at Mrs. Weasley’s request. Each time she visited, there was a new wonder to behold, or something small that would still make Hermione’s jaw drop in amazement at the ingenuity of the magic. As usual, the shop was bustling. Children too young to attend Hogwarts were running with their friends through the aisles, and up and down the stairs, each more excited than the next. As she looked for Fred and George, Hermione sidestepped one who, in his enthusiasm about showing his brother something brightly wrapped and making strange noises, had forgotten to look where he was running. 

"Hey, Mione!" a familiar voice called from somewhere to her left. 

"Come to take us up on our job offer? Mum owled that you were looking for work," another voice continued, from her right this time.

The twins stepped out from behind shelves of their products and converged on Hermione, steering her towards the back room. 

"You'll have to interview, of course."

"Make it official, you understand."

"But we have it on good authority that the owners of this joint are looking to hire a self-motivated, intelligent individual like yourself." They both looked down at her, grinning.

“Someone to help out, especially now that George will be married, you see.”

At this point, they sat her in a chair in front of them and moved behinds their desks, quills poised.

"First things first, Hermione. Name?" Fred asked, inking his quill in anticipation, his expression fixed into an attempt at seriousness.

"Oh, honestly, you two. I'm dropping off some food for you. Surely your mother mentioned that in her owl?" Hermione responded. 

"Might've mentioned it."

"But we wanted to be sure to snag the most eligible employee off the market before we begged her for food."

"Professionalism, you see," George finished, scribbling something on the bit of parchment in front of him. 

Hermione sighed. While working in a joke shop wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, she knew that she could learn something from having a look at the magic behind the twins’ products. It was certainly better than no job, and probably better than any of the others she'd actually been able to apply for that day.

“My name is Hermione Jean Granger, as you well know,” she told them resolutely.

The twins grinned at each other.

“Knew we could get her, Gred.”

“That you did, Forge. Now that’s settled, we’d like to offer you a position helping us brew potions for our products. We’ll pay you a fair wage, with bonuses for help with creating new products. Sound fair?”

“I—well—yes, that sounds fair, but what do you mean you knew you could get me? Have you two been up to something?” Hermione accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Fred scolded, shaking his finger at her and walking around the desk towards her. “You work here now, so don’t go all little-miss-Prefect on us and scold us for pranks.”

He smirked, and leaned down to whisper, conspiratorially in her ear, “You’re a troublemaker now, Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, friends! As always, thank you for reading. Extra thanks to those who left Kudos or bookmarked this story. It means a lot to me! I hope that you enjoyed the third chapter :) I promise that there is more Fred/Hermione interaction from here on out!
> 
> See you back here next Friday!  
> -E. Leigh


	4. A Fresh Start

After showing Hermione around the shop, the boys had invited her up to their flat to enjoy the dinner that Molly had sent them. Before she knew it, it was past midnight and she was rushing out the door apologizing for keeping them up so late just to chat. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed hanging out with Fred and George. She'd spent so much of their time at Hogwarts scolding them that she'd never really had the chance to get to know Ron's older brothers. But their dinner was full of unexpectedly intelligent banter, and the twins seemed to enjoy answering Hermione’s questions about the setup of their business and their lives. Hermione wasn’t used to having people that could keep up with her, but she’d been pleasantly surprised to meet her match with the twins. They were more than just pranksters; that much was certain.

When she settled into bed that night, she felt calmer than she had in weeks. She had a job that she thought she'd actually enjoy, and the loneliness that had settled on her shoulders since she'd left to find her parents seemed to have lifted, just a little.

* * *

Hermione settled in to her job at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes surprisingly quickly. Fred and George’s potions were complicated, but she enjoyed the challenge. They didn’t call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing, after all. She also enjoyed questioning the pair about how they’d come up with the recipes for the products she brewed. There was ingenuity in their work that she hadn’t seen since Harry’s days with Snape’s old potions book. Their magic had its own strange… flavor. It was truly impressive, and Hermione told them so.

“Fred?” she said, one day when she was working on a particularly involved potion and he was filing owl orders to be shipped.

“Hmm? Everything alright over there, pet?” he replied, without looking up from his spreadsheet.

“Yes, fine. The Big-Head Brownies are coming along fine. I just had a question about your recipe – what’s the use of the eel’s eyes in this potion? I’d have thought, since you’re using a modified swelling solution, the eyes would inflate without any extra help?” she asked.

“Ah. Well, you see they were actually swelling just a bit too well. We combine the eel’s eyes with components of a deflating draught to make it an eye-specific deflating effect. The over-inflation from the brownies is counteracted by the deflation from the draught, and we get a nice even swelling of the user’s whole head,” he explained with a smile. 

“That’s genius. It really is. The two of you are just brilliant,” Hermione said, awed.

Fred’s ears turned slightly pink, but he held eye contact with her, searching her face for signs of sarcasm or disdain.

“You really mean that, do you? After all those times chasing us out of the Gryffindor common room for testing our products? Almost getting us shut down by telling our mother?” Fred asked.

Hermione flushed under his gaze. “It was your methods I had a problem with, Fred. I’ve always been impressed by your magic. Perhaps it isn’t my style, but the two of you truly do some incredible magic.”

Thrown by Hermione’s seriousness, Fred responded the only way he knew how. “Well it looks like we have our next endorsement, George!” he said to the twin that had just entered the workroom. “What do you think: Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and best friend of Harry Potter calls it ‘truly incredible magic!’ Get yours today!” Fred did his best announcer’s voice and finished it off with a rougish wink at Hermione, who chuckled and shook her head. Working with these two was certainly never boring.

* * *

When the dust had settled from Hermione’s return to the Burrow, she finally found the time to sit down and write to Harry, Ron and Ginny to explain everything that had happened since she’d last seen them in July. It was strange – this was the longest Hermione had ever gone without seeing her friends. Each had offered to join her in Australia, but she had insisted that it was best if she went to find her parents on her own. The Ministry needed Harry, Ron and herself as the face of the reconstruction, but with Hermione leaving, the least she could do was make sure two of members of the Golden Trio stayed in Britain for the aftermath of the war. She would have stayed longer to help if she could have, but she didn’t want to put off finding her parents and have them even angrier with her. As for Ginny, Hermione would never have wanted her anywhere but at Harry’s side as the cleanup began, and Harry continued to deal with the stresses of being the chosen one. The couple had spent enough time apart; there was no reason for them to wait any longer to be together.

So Hermione had gone to Australia alone. She’d sent them quick updates here and there – more to reassure them that she was okay than to tell them about her progress, or lack thereof. They didn’t need any distractions from their work in Britain and Hermione needed to spend as much time as she could searching for her parents. Most of her time had been spent tracking down leads and speaking to anyone that might have seen Monica and Wendell Wilkins. And by the end of the day, she was usually too tired to send a whole letter. But now it was October, and it had been months since she’d had any real communication with the boys and Ginny. It was time to fix that.

 _Ginny,_ she wrote first, knowing that her epistle to the youngest Weasley would be the easiest. _How is seventh year? I’m sure your mother has told you by now that I’m back in England and staying with your parents at the Burrow. They’ve been wonderful to me, of course, but it’s strange to be here without you and Harry and Ron. It’s quite lonely – and very quiet – in this big house with just your parents. I wonder how they stand it after having the seven of you running around for so many years. How have you been? Has Harry been treating you right? Just let me know if I need to give that boy a talking to._  
_Miss you, Ginny._  
_Best,_  
_Hermione_

She wrote to Harry next, feeling the need to explain everything that had happened since she’d last seen him.

 _Hello Harry,_  
_I hope the new year at Hogwarts is treating you well and that you’ve been studying hard for your N.E.W.T.s. I’m sorry I didn’t write more while I was in Australia. Finding my parents turned out to be far more difficult than I expected. Perhaps harder than finding the horcruxes. At least those didn’t move around all the time. I’ve come back to England and the Ministry is helping me to find them now. I was hoping to get a job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures or with Department of International Magical Cooperation, but I can’t return to Hogwarts this year and I can’t get a job at the Ministry without my N.E.W.T.s. It’s been an unlucky few months since the last time I saw you, so I hope it’s been going better for you there. How is the reconstruction going? Hogwarts looks eerily similar to the way it did before the war – I saw it when I stopped by to speak to McGonagall. I’m sorry I didn’t say hello while I was there, but hopefully I’ll be back to visit again shortly. I’m looking forward to Christmas when you’ll all be back here at the Burrow. It’s too quiet here without the bustle of all the Weasleys here at once. Ah, I should go before I start to sound unhappy – I’m having a lovely time here, I really am. Tell me about seventh year – what are you learning? Who have they gotten to teach DADA? Don’t get into too much trouble without me! ___  
_Love,_  
_Hermione_

Hermione had saved Ron’s for last because she wasn’t sure what to say to him anymore. They’d left everything so…uncertainly, but now that she wasn’t returning to Hogwarts with the others, things were even more muddled. It was far more complicated than Hermione would have liked. After dancing around each other for years, after his relationship with Lavender, after the heartbreak of him leaving her behind on the search for horcruxes, they’d kissed. 

What was she supposed to say to him now? They’d hardly seen each other since the kiss, let alone talked about it. Hermione had tried to talk to him, but the aftermath of the war had been at least as chaotic as the war itself. Every time she’d thought they could get a few minutes alone, Harry was running in begging for help with a spell, or some Daily Prophet reporter would show up to interview the Golden Trio. Save for a few pecks goodbye during the reconstruction, there hadn’t even been any kissing, romance, much of anything, really, but for that one moment of passion during the final battle. Was it just the heat of the war talking to them, then? Was that the end of so many years of awkward lead-up? Were they going to be together now, or not? Hermione sighed. It was time to figure this out.

 _Hello Ron,_ she penned carefully, _I hope that you’re well. I’m sorry that I haven’t been better about writing while I was in Australia. As I’m sure your mum told you, my search for my parents was unsuccessful and I’m back in Britain. I was hoping to talk with you, now that I’m back. It seems we might have a few things to sort out and discuss. Will you be able to meet me for a drink at the Three Broomsticks this Saturday, noon?_  
_Best,  
_Hermione__

She attached the three letters to the leg of her owl, Ophelia and sent her off with an owl treat and the instructions to find Harry, Ron and Ginny at Hogwarts. Her note to Ron was probably the most formal letter she’d ever written to one of her friends, but it could be worse, she supposed. At least she’d written him instead of avoiding it the way she had been. And perhaps seeing Ron and figuring things out would help her to turn her luck around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading another chapter, and an extra special thanks to those who bookmarked, gave kudos, and to Dand3l1on for commenting. I love hearing your thoughts, so feel free to let me know how you like it so far! Have a lovely weekend. I'll see you back here next week!
> 
> -E. Leigh


	5. Timing is Everything

Hermione spent the few days between sending her letters off to Hogwarts, and Saturday, the day she was due at The Three Broomsticks, trying to decide what she wanted with Ron. Did she want to try this relationship with him or should they stick to what they knew and just stay friends? How was she supposed to know what the right decision would be? The last thing that she wanted was to ruin their friendship, but she also felt that they owed themselves an attempt at something more after so many awkward years of dancing around each other. Her decision changed by the hour for most of the week, but by Friday afternoon she could feel herself leaning towards trying to date Ron. Sure, she didn’t quite know what their feelings were for each other anymore, but they’d been so strong for so long that Hermione’s logical side told her it was probably worth a shot. Still, even with her mind half made up, Hermione agonized over how to breach the subject of dating one of her best friends.

Fortunately, the joke shop kept her busy, or she was sure that she’d have spent every waking minute worrying over sitting down to talk to the youngest of the Weasley boys. As it was, she’d been distracted enough on Friday afternoon to miss a step in the potion for Puking Pastilles, which had then caused billowing orange smoke to flood the workroom and the back of the shop before the twins had contained and vanished it. Fortunately, no customers were hurt, but the smoke left Hermione vomiting uncontrollably until Fred was able to shove the purple end of a pastille into her mouth.

When they’d all taken a moment to recover, George had vanished the vomit and the potion from the room before returning to tend to the store. Fred turned to Hermione, who was sitting on the floor with her back to a wall and her knees pulled up to her chest, taking deep breaths and muttering under her breath. He looked at her, with her brown hair wild and her skin flushed, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. _Can’t go easy on her just cause she’s pretty, Freddie. Treat her like you would any other employee_ , the voice in his head told him. He crossed his arms and spoke, his voice coming out more sharply than he had intended.

“Hermione! What were you thinking? Without the cedar sap, this potion is volatile! I told you that!” he said reproachfully.

She shook her head, trying to clear it and understand what had happened. She hadn't made a mistake this bad since she turned herself into a cat in her second year. When that had happened she vowed never to be so careless again – having a tail hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience – but here she was. She wasn’t sure which was worse – the tail or all of that vomit. It didn’t matter, in both cases the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach tortured her with a constant reminder of her mistake.

"I'm just distracted today. I'm so sorry. I promise it won't happen again!" Hermione apologized, her cheeks red. She couldn’t meet Fred’s eyes, knowing that she had cost them a day’s worth of products and nearly made the entire store sick. She felt like she was back at Hogwarts, being scolded by McGonagall, losing points for trying to fight a troll.

Fred ran his hand through his hair and looked down at her. She was chewing her bottom lip, and wringing her hands incessantly, still staring at the space between her knees. Immediately he realized that there wasn’t a thing he could say that was worse than whatever scolding Hermione was giving herself. Perhaps he had overcompensated – she wasn’t just any other employee. "No, Hermione, I'm sorry for overreacting. The customers weren’t hurt. It's just a potion and we can make it again tomorrow. Are you okay, pet?" When she finally looked up, Fred looked more serious and concerned than Hermione was prepared for.

"I'm fine. I'm just embarrassed – I feel terrible. It's my second week and I’ve already messed something up!"

Fred reached for Hermione’s hand to help her up. "It's your second week and you're bound to make a mistake. No harm, no foul – it’s a joke shop after all. You can’t even imagine all of the crazy things that happened to George and I while we were designing our products. It still happens sometimes. Did we ever tell you about the boils we got our seventh year designing our skiving snackboxes? It was awful. But it happens to the best of us. And I mean the best,” he said with his trademark wink. “Don't worry about it."

Fred helped her to her feet and Hermione found herself looking up into his blue eyes. She wasn't sure that she'd ever been this close to either of the twins, and for some reason she found it slightly unsettling. Fred patted her awkwardly on the shoulder before stepping back, his ears turning the lightest shade of pink. Hermione glanced towards the floor again, telling herself that the embarrassment she felt was only because of the mistake she’d made with the potion.

"Take the rest of the day off," Fred said. "Work out whatever it is that's distracting you and we'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

So there she was, ready to figure things out with Ron before she was due in the shop. The worst was that she still wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted. She wanted to give it a try. Hermione had spent most of her life pining after Ron, and now she could have what she’d wished for since she was thirteen years old. But by the time Ron had realized he had feelings for Hermione too, they’d been on the run, and the middle of a war is no place to start a relationship. And then the kiss, and now Ron was at Hogwarts and next year Hermione would be. The timing was never right for Hermione and Ron, and if she had believed in Divination, she would have wondered whether the universe was trying to tell her something.

And now she was waiting for Ronald again. He was – she checked her watch – fifteen minutes late, and counting, despite the promises in his return letter that he would meet her on time. She had half a mind to leave and make him come find her to talk, but this was too important to wait for Ron to finally find some initiative. She couldn’t deal with another day of distracted potion making, and she had a feeling Fred and George would feel the same.

She glanced around the cozy pub once more before resting her head on her arms. She was tired of looking around for Ron every time the door opened. She was tired of being disappointed by him.

“Hermione?” she heard a few minutes later. She jumped up to greet Ron, almost knocking her butterbeer over in the process.

“Whoa there, Mione,” Ron said, catching her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright Ronald. It’s good to see you!” Hermione hugged him, but he pulled back hesitantly, blushing. She heard a cough from behind Ron’s back and peeked around him.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Hello, Hannah. I didn’t expect to run into you today,” Hermione said with a smile.

Hannah turned abruptly to Ron, all but ignoring Hermione, who tried not to be offended by the un-Huffelpuff-like behavior. “I thought you were going to tell her!” Hannah accused, her voice betraying a mixture of anger and sadness. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Hermione watched her leave before turning to Ron, who was looking after Hannah like a lost puppy. Hands on her hips, with a scolding expression that would make Mrs. Weasly proud, Hermione glared. “Ronald Weasley, what exactly is going on here?”

“I – er – well, Hermione, you see. Things have changed while you were gone. I was going to tell you but… Well it didn’t seem the right thing to say in a letter. Hermione, Hannah and I are – er –“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, once again! I hope you enjoyed the most recent installment of this story. I have several chapters written so far, so updates should continue to be pretty regular. As always, thank you al for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing. Shoutouts to JeniceM, SledplayersLady, and Orange_Coyote for their reviews on the last chapter. I love hearing from you all! It means so much to me that you’re all reading this.
> 
> -E. Leigh


	6. Treats and Trickery

_“I – er – well, Hermione, you see. Things have changed while you were gone. I was going to tell you but… Well it didn’t seem the right thing to say in a letter. Hermione, Hannah and I are – er –“_

“Dating, Ronald, yes. I can see that – brightest witch of my age and all that. I wish you’d just told me. I’ve been trying for days to come up with some way to tell you that I think we’re better as friends,” Hermione said with a tight smile, ignoring her heart as it tried to beat its way out of her chest. It wasn’t the truth, but that little lie would at least allow her to stay friends with Ron. The timing was just off, once again. She should really thank him for making her decision for her.

Ron smiled brilliantly at Hermione, oblivious to her discomfort. “Really? D’you mean that? You’re not angry with me?”

“I never said that. Honesty is important, Ronald. You should have just told me,” Hermione reprimanded, trying to keep her voice serious as she sifted through everything happening in her mind and set aside the endings she’d been imagining to the day.

“Mione… I’m sorry,” Ron began, looking abashed.

Hermione cracked a smile, this one more genuine than the last. She wanted Ron to be happy. That was the important part of this conversation, and she knew she would do well to remember it. “I’m joking Ron. It’s okay. We’re alright. Now go catch up with your girlfriend before she gets even more upset with you. I have to get back to the shop for work anyway.”

Ron looked shocked, trying to remember the last time he’d heard Hermione crack a joke. “Fred and George rubbing off on you, are they?” Ron said as he threw an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the pub. He was back to his relaxed and goofy self. Clearly their meeting had gone better than he planned. “Thanks, Hermione. I’m glad we’re still friends. Say hello to everyone for me, would you?”

“Of course, Ron. Likewise – give Harry and Ginny my best.” Hermione hugged Ron goodbye and waved to Hannah, who was across the way waiting for her boyfriend. She saw them on their way back to Hogwarts with reassurances that she would see them soon and then made her way back to the main street of Hogsmeade. She wanted to bring the twins some Honeydukes candy as an apology for flooding their shop with vomit smoke the previous day.

Stepping into the shop, Hermione found that it was different than she remembered from her weekend visits during her time at Hogwarts. It was quieter, obviously, as there weren’t schoolchildren running around. The shop seemed more somber – as if the war had leeched the color out of the once bright displays, leaving behind shadows of what Honeydukes once was. Hermione looked around sadly; it seemed everywhere would remind her of what they’d lost in the war. Even what had once been one of her favorite shops in the wizarding world (not that she’d have told her dentist parents that, of course) wasn’t the same anymore.

Sighing, Hermione made her way to the counter to pay for her purchases. She supposed that she’d just have to get used to the world changing around her. There had been a war, and she couldn’t expect the wizarding world to be the apparently perfect place that had mystified her eleven-year-old self. Even her relationships here were changing. Hermione had made plans, and somehow the universe had decided that those plans were meant to wait. Hermione was going to have to learn to accept her luck, even if it wasn’t what she’d hoped for.

Hermione made her purchases and apparated to Diagon Alley. Stepping into the always-crowded joke shop, she looked around for the proprietors. She spotted Verity behind the counter and made her way through the crowd to the only other visible employee in the store. The young witch pointed Hermione to the back, where she could hear Fred and George talking behind workroom door, which had been left ajar.

“Well you can’t just tell her that,” one said.

“I know. But what am I supposed to do? I thought I was over this ages ago.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to deal with it, brother of mine. There’s nothing you can do if she ends up –“

Hermione knocked on the workroom door. The twins had told her not to, but she suddenly felt the need to make herself known. She’d heard too much that she wasn’t meant to hear. For now, she didn’t understand it, but if she listened any longer…

“Come in, Hermione.”

“No need for our favorite potions master to knock,” George said with a grin as Hermione peeked around the door.

“Are you sure I’m your favorite after I almost sent all of your customers home vomiting yesterday? I haven’t lost my place to Professor Snape?” Hermione asked with an embarrassed smile. Coming back to work felt a bit like a walk of shame.

“Hey, we told you yesterday,“ Fred began.

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione.”

“Truly, it was a great demonstration of the power of our products, right Gred?”

“We should schedule in-store entertainment more often, Forge."

Hermione laughed. “Well I just wanted you to know that I appreciate how understanding you’ve been, so while I was in Hogsmeade–“

“What were you up to in Hogsmeade?” Fred interrupted abruptly, eyebrows knitting together.

“Not searching out other employment, we hope.”

“No of course not. Honestly, you two. I was meeting with Ron for some butterbeer and I–“

“Hermione and Ronnikins, sitting in a tree,” George taunted, smirking.

“George!” Hermione scolded.

“Well he’s right, isn’t he? That would certainly explain the distraction that caused yesterday’s debacle,” Fred reasoned, looking at her intently.

“Ron is dating Hannah Abbot, not me!” Hermione yelled, a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary, considering she’d told Ron she was happy for him.

George shot Fred a look that Hermione didn’t notice as she stared at her feet.

“I’m sorry Mione. That must be disappointing,” George said, offering her a hug.

“No, no. I’m fine. Honestly. Ronald and I never would have worked out anyway. I just didn’t expect to go talk to him about it and have him walk in with his new girlfriend. That’s all. I’m fine. Really,” Hermione reassured them as she tried to convince herself that this was true. She shook her head and nudged George’s arms away, stepping backwards. “I don’t even know why I reacted that way.”

“You’ve liked him for ages, Hermione. Everyone knows that. I think mum’s been planning your wedding since the first time you came to the Burrow. It’s just Ron that never caught on,” Fred said, with a roll of his eyes.

“We are better off as friends though. We’ve hardly talked since the war ended, and didn’t even think of him at all while I was away in Australia. That’s not the best start to a relationship. He and Hannah should be happy together,” Hermione replied, a note of finality in her voice. The words that she heard herself speaking were starting to make sense. Maybe logic was the best way to approach this ill-timed, bad-luck situation with Ron. Maybe it was time to finally let him go.

“As I was saying: while I was in Hogsmeade, I picked up some treats to thank you,” she said, handing each of them a Honeydukes bag. This was enough to distract the twins from their previous line of inquiry.

“Honeydukes Best Chocolate!”

“And Invisi-pops? These must be new. I don’t remember trying them before. Thanks, Hermione!”

“Yeah, thanks! Employee of the month!”

“I heard that!” Verity called from the front of the shop, making the trio in the back chuckle.

Fred and George exchanged candy like excited children on Halloween. Hermione smiled, forgetting about Ron and Hannah and her newfound resolution to let go. It was easy enough to please them, and it was easy to be relaxed and happy when she was in the shop with them. The twins truly were fun to be around, now that she wasn’t responsible for turning them in for their mischief.

Hermione glanced back up at the boys and laughed when she saw their orange and purple robes, seemingly floating in midair.

“Gred! Where’d you go? Gred! Where’d I go?!”

“Freddie, my boy, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, George, I think I am.”

“But, I think we’re going to need our dear potions master to help us with this one!.”

Hermione squealed as one of the invisible boys (she couldn’t tell which, their being invisible and all) lifted her up and carried her to sit behind one of the desks.

“Put me down!” she yelped

Fred had finished his lollipop and was starting to become visible again as he set Hermione down in the chair. He grinned at her, “Sorry, Mione, love. I got a bit excited. Will you ever forgive me?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and gave him a shove towards his twin’s still apparently empty robes. “What do you need my help with, you troublemakers?”

“We want to make a line of candy that will turn your friends entirely invisible, whether or not they finish the whole candy. What do you say? Can you help us?”

“How about a whole line of candies that causes strange things to happen to your friends? We can call them ‘Sucker Suckers.’ Everyone knows now to look out for your Canary Creams, and Ton-Tongue Toffee, and such. But we can disguise these to look just like normal candies. You won’t know what will happen to you until it’s done!” Hermione suggested.

The twins traded a look, and turned back to Hermione with matching smirks on their faces.

“Told you we should hire her, Gred.”

“That you did, Forge.”

Fred winked at her happily. “We’ll make an evil genius out of you yet, Granger, just you wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the most recent update! Thank you for reading, and for your kudos. And thank you to Orange_Coyote for your lovely review! Comments are always very much appreciated.
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend!  
> -E. Leigh


	7. Falling

The weeks passed quickly, and before Hermione knew it, it was nearly Christmastime. She was enjoying the routine of spending her days at the shop with the twins. Now that George’s wedding was fast approaching, however, it tended to be just her and Fred working together in the back room, while George rushed off to attend to cake tastings and whatever else Angelina had scheduled for her fiancée.

No two days were the same, at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and Hermione found that she liked the small sense of adventure she got from her job. It was no horcrux hunt, but she’d had enough of that kind of excitement to last her a lifetime. Besides, she had enough bad luck to keep things interesting on her own, right there in Diagon Alley.

Hermione was no longer allowed to restock the shelves. One afternoon, about a month after she started working at the joke shop, Hermione was supposed to let the potion she was working on (one that would make someone’s toenails grow incredibly quickly) brew for an hour without being disturbed. She was supposed to make some trick wands that afternoon as well, but she’d never done them before, and the twins had said they’d go over the theory behind the charm before she started to work on them. Hermione had always felt that knowing the theory behind a charm made her magic more powerful, and she certainly wanted to make sure that the magic she did for the shop was her best work. But George was off with Angelina and the wedding planner, and Fred had gone out to lunch with a “business associate” (Hermione suspected it was the pretty blonde witch who worked in Flourish and Blotts, but she tried not to let her annoyance get the better of her as he had every right to go out to lunch). So Hermione was left to wait for an hour while her potion brewed.

Wanting to feel useful, Hermione went out to the shop and asked Verity if there was anything that needed doing. It had been a busy morning, but now the shop was clearing out with the end of the lunch rush, and without the twins around, Hermione was sure that their assistant could use some assistance of her own.

Verity pointed her to some shelves that were nearly empty of product, so Hermione dutifully found the products in the stockroom and climbed the ladder, levitating the box of fake moustaches beside her. The shelf was almost restocked when Hermione reached a bit too far for the last moustache in the box and lost her balance. She teetered for a moment, trying to grab onto the ladder, the shelves, anything to help her regain her balance, but instead fell the few feet onto the shop floor, taking the set of shelves and the ladder down with her. The ladder alone would have caused a chain reaction, knocking down shelf after shelf all over the shop, had Verity not seen what was happening in time to vanish the ladder as it fell.

“Hermione!” she shouted, “Hermione are you alright?!”

Hermione groaned from the floor. Everything hurt. She was about to tell Verity so when Fred came bursting in the door.

“What the bloody hell is going on in here?!” he yelled, rushing over to where Verity crouched beside Hermione’s prone body. His eyes grew wide with panic. “Hermione! What happened now? Are you okay? Is she okay? What happened?” he repeated, looking from one woman to the other.

Hermione groaned. “I’ll be fine if you shut up for a moment, Fred. I fell off the ladder and took some shelves with me. It’s only because of Verity’s quick wit that I didn’t manage to knock over the rest of your store. But now my body hurts. Do you think you can take me back to the Burrow? Molly will to know what to do to get rid of the bruising I’m sure to have.”

Fred nodded. “Verity, close up the shop for the day, would you? I’ll be back to help you straighten this out shortly.” Then he lifted Hermione gently into his arms and apparated straight to the Burrow, and carried her across the yard and into the house. He glanced down at her every so often, worry pulling at his mouth and touching his eyes.

Through the haze of her pain, Hermione was impressed that he was able to lift her so easily. She smiled as he set her down on the couch and called for his mum.

“Oi, stop smiling, Granger. You could have died!”

“But I didn’t. Just some bruises.”

“Doesn’t matter. You could have. No more restocking for you. And that’s an order.”

“Yessir, Mr. Weasley, sir,” she said with a small smile and a roll of her eyes. That boy…

He smirked at her as his mother rushed into the room to tend to her patient and then he turned to explain what had happened. “I’ll be off, then,” he said with a final, worried glance at Hermione. “You’re in good hands. I’ll finish off today’s work. You rest.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something about continuing on with worse during the war, but he cut her off. “Ah, ah – no arguments. I am the boss after all.”

Hermione smiled at the memory. She and Fred had grown quite close in the few months that they’d been working together. She’d grown to admire his creative charmwork as he explained some of the theory behind the magic in the products. She’d always prided herself on being advanced at charms, but she had to admit that Fred might have her beat.

“How did you figure all this out?” she asked him one day, after he’d explained a particularly complex product to her. They were sitting in the workroom, him on her desk and her behind it, taking notes like the good student she’d always been.

Fred smirked at her. “The Hogwarts library, of course. I know you think that you’re the only one who’s ever used it, but when you go back, check with Madam Pince. I think you’ll find that George and I checked out nearly as many books as you did, between the two of us.”

“But you hardly got any O.W.L.s!”

“We didn’t apply ourselves to our studies the way you did. We put our time into…other endeavors” he said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, which led Hermione to whack him lightly on the arm.

He grinned. “By that, of course, I mean this shop, and now look who works for whom,” Fred said, continuing to smile. It was infectious, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile back at him. It felt like the first time she had ever looked at him – really looked at him. She wondered if his eyes had always been so blue, and then she blushed at her own thoughts, questioning why the thought had even crossed her mind. She shook them away and looked back at him before she replied.

“Well you’re brilliant. I’ve said it before, I know, but I am continuously impressed by you, Fred Weasley.”

Fred narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. “Are you feeling alright? Did you spill some of our Wonder Witch potions on yourself again, or are you just trying to butter me up to ask me on a date?”

Hermione laughed and smacked his arm once again. “I’m serious, Fred!”

“Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?” Fred teased. Feigning suspicion, he leaned forward to place his hands on the back of Hermione’s chair, as if about to interrogate her. She leaned against the high back of the chair, trying to keep her distance and her thoughts in order as he hovered over her.

“Honestly, Fred! I’m just trying to give you a compliment!”

“It’s not every day one gets a compliment from the brightest witch of her age,” he reminded her, leaning a little closer. He was now close enough to make Hermione blush, something she found herself doing quite often when Fred was around. She felt like a silly schoolgirl again, when he did goofy and ridiculous things just to make her laugh while they worked. She found herself wanting to come up with ideas for products, or improvements on their charms and potions, just to impress him.

Looking back, Hermione wasn’t quite sure when it happened. She wasn’t even sure how it happened. But sure enough, Hermione Granger, bookworm and former prefect, had begun to fancy Fred Weasley, the king of the pranksters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not the longest of chapters, but I hope that you all enjoyed it! As always, thank you to Orange_Coyote for the glowing review, and to the very many of you who gave this story kudos after the last chapter. I am so happy to have all of you. I look forward to next week, when I can share the next installment with you.
> 
> Best – E. Leigh


	8. Clumsy Confessions

Before Hermione knew it, the twins were closing shop for the holidays. Harry, Ginny and Ron were due back on the Hogwarts Express that afternoon, and Charlie had returned from Romania for the holidays. Percy, of course, was not taking any time off work, but he had agreed to stop by the Burrow for suppers in the evenings, as had Fleur and Bill. For the first time since the end of the war, all of the Weasleys were going to be back at the Burrow, and Hermione’s excitement nearly matched Mrs. Weasley’s. It felt like her family was coming home, and if she couldn’t have her parents back for Christmas, at least she would be surrounded by Weasleys. 

Hermione was ecstatic to see her friends again. She’d finished her work for the day and was rushing to clean up and bottle the potion she made. In her haste, some of the potion splashed out of the cauldron, hitting her face.

“Bloody hell!” she exclaimed, causing Fred and George to rush into the workroom.

“Hermione!”

“Oi, not again!”

“Is that…?”

“Polyjuice cream?”

“It’s halfway finished polyjuice cream. Why? What’s happened?” Hermione asked, wishing she could see the effects of the incomplete potion.

Fred conjured a mirror, but hesitated to hand it to her. “Er, well, it’s just…”

“Fred, either tell me or hand me the mirror,” she said sternly, placing her hands on her hips in a fantastic imitation of Mrs. Weasley. Fred grimaced and looked to his twin for advice.

“Give her the mirror, Freddie,” George told his brother with a warning look that seemed to say that there was no way to tell her how she looked without getting himself into trouble.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the boys as she took the mirror from a still-hesitant Fred. Fred and George stared at her as she inspected herself in the mirror. They were pretty sure that if anything would throw Hermione over the edge it was this. She’d had so many accidents in the few months that she’d been working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, each with varying consequences. She’d had two black eyes from the punching telescopes that she’d sworn to avoid. She’d fallen off that ladder, and there was the vomiting incident. She’d also inhaled too many of the Ton-Tongue Toffee fumes one morning and caused her entire face to swell before the twins had been able to right it for her. She was a walking accident, and the Polyjuice Cream was just the icing on top of the cake. She’d been a good sport through it all, despite feeling that she’d lost her touch in potion-making. Between all of her recent accidents and the holiday rush that had everyone in the store slightly on edge, they wondered if Hermione’s sense of humor had been stretched too far.

When she saw her reflection, her eyes went wide. Her right eyebrow, which had been facing the cauldron when the potion splashed, was incredibly bushy. Her right cheek had become round and rosy in a way that reminded her of a young Neville. And her nose – she knew that nose anywhere. She had Professor Snape’s nose.

And then she snorted. And her snort turned into giggles, and her giggles into hysterical laughter. The boys looked to one another and then began to laugh themselves.

“Why does this keep happening to me?!” she exclaimed through her laughter.

“I don’t know but—“

“It certainly keeps things interesting.”

It took Hermione, Fred and George a few minutes to regain their composure enough for Hermione to request assistance fixing her appearance.

“I’ll go finish closing up shop. You got this one, mate?” George asked his brother, still chuckling.

Fred nodded at George as he left the room and stepped over to Hermione, who had collapsed, still giggling, into her desk chair. He grinned down at her.

“Trust me?” he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of her. His feet rested on the floor on either side of hers, close enough that his knees touched her chair. He was still smiling, but his tone caused Hermione to stop giggling. He wanted to make sure she’d really be okay with him performing the necessary magic to counteract the effects of the Polyjuice Cream.

Hermione nodded, biting back the frantic suggestions that popped into her head. Fred was a capable wizard and she did trust him, but she was nervous enough now to want to start rambling. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with Fred performing magic on her face.

Fred smiled back at her reassuringly, reaching out to rest his hand gently under her chin so that he’d be able to keep her steady as he charmed away the effects of the potion.

“Now, let’s get that cute nose of yours back first, eh?” Fred said before concentrating on the spells he was performing.

Hermione nodded as if everything were just fine, but in reality, she was having trouble breathing. If anyone were to look in on this cozy little scene, it might look like they were about to kiss. It certainly felt like the world’s most drawn out almost-kiss to Hermione. It was taking all of her willpower not to stare at Fred’s lips as he muttered incantations. Her eyes darted all over his face, and the room, but they were always drawn back to his smirking lips and it was driving her mad.

She wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss him. But he was Ron’s brother. An a few months ago she’d thought she would be with Ron. Besides, Fred had never given her any indication that he saw her as anything other than another little sister. No, there would be nothing between Hermione and Fred, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t admire him while he was focused on other things, did it?

“And, there we go,” Fred said, drawing Hermione out of her trance. “You alright there, pet?” He teased her as though he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about.

She could feel her cheeks heating, but Hermione blinked and nodded, stepping quickly away from Fred to gather her belongings and her composure. _Merlin, I don’t know that I’ve ever blushed so much in my entire life. I need to get a hold on myself!_

Hermione was still blushing when she, Fred and George apparated to the Burrow a few minutes later. She was very excited to see her friends, but she knew that her pink-tinged cheeks would give her away immediately, at least to Ginny. She was hoping that she could slip away unnoticed to go speak to Harry and Ron and catch up with them until she was able to regain control of her reactions. Unfortunately for Hermione, however, Ginny was becoming more like her mother every day. As soon as Hermione stepped into the kitchen, Ginny’s eyes narrowed and her gaze caught Hermione’s. The youngest ginger nodded her head towards the stairs, which Hermione took as an indication that she was about to be interrogated. She followed her best friend resignedly, knowing that if she didn’t Ginny would have no qualms about bringing it up in front of the entire Weasley family.

The door to Ginny’s room was hardly closed before she was speaking. “Hermione Granger, I have not seen you this red since Viktor Krum asked you to the Yule Ball. What in the name of Merlin is going on? Does it have to do with Ronald?”

Hermione shook her head and waited for her friend to stop. 

“It’s just the wind. It was a cold walk?” Hermione attempted feebly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Spill, Hermione.”

She took a deep breath. It didn’t seem she would be getting away with any more evasions. She would have to tell Ginny.

“IthinkImightmaybefancyFred,” she blurted.

Ginny snorted. “Come again? I could have sworn you said you fancied Fred, and we all know that can’t be—“ Ginny stopped abruptly, seeing the pink flush that had graced Hermione’s cheeks spread down to her neck. “You’re kidding me. Is this just one of their pranks? How much did they bump your salary for pulling this one, Hermione? Merlin, I knew you worked for them, but I didn’t expect this from you.”

“Ginny,” Hermione said, her voice breathless and her expression pained, “Ginny, I’m serious.”

Ginny stopped pacing her room and turned to face Hermione, who was sitting on the bed, looking worried.

“You mean it?”

Hermione nodded. Ginny exhaled loudly and plopped herself onto the bed next to Hermione, still trying to wrap her head around this information.

“Hmph. You fancy Fred. Who would have thought?”

Hermione shushed her. “Keep your voice down! I don’t want the whole Burrow to hear!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend once again. “How long has this been going on, Hermione? And why didn’t you owl me immediately? I mean you are my best friend and he is my brother, after all.”

“Ginny, nothing is going on! It’s a stupid little crush. I don’t even understand it! It’s stilly. He’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake, and I’m just the swotty little prefect that hangs around with their little siblings,” Hermione said, crossing her arms and looking out the window.

“Well I do understand it. It’s not as if he’s bad looking. And he’s smart enough to keep up with you, and I’m sure you’ve been having a fun time over in the shop. Especially with George away so often to prepare for the wedding,” Ginny said, with a smirk and a wink that made her look eerily like the twins.

“Ginevra!”

But Ginny waved Hermione’s protests away and continued. “And I hardly think that’s what anyone thinks of you. You’ve been helping them make pranks, which is something that a 'swotty little prefect' would never have dared. And have you seen yourself lately? Hermione, you’re bloody gorgeous,” Ginny finished.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend, who was obviously making her feel better.

“Just accept the compliment and then I will forgive you for your oversight in telling me about this wonderful development,” Ginny challenged.

“Thank you, Ginny, how kind of you,” Hermione replied sarcastically.

Ginny giggled and hopped off the bed, grinning evilly.

“At least now that I know I can help you out! I’ve always wanted you as a sister!” she called back, bouncing out of the room with Hermione chasing behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends and thank you for reading! Thank you to those who gave me kudos and comments on this story – you keep me writing. I have up through chapter 16 written at this point, and there will probably be another 10 or so chapters after that. I will also likely be raising the rating to M at some point in the relatively near future ;)
> 
> Thank you all! – E. Leigh


	9. Mistletoe Mischeif

Christmas came and went with several close encounters between Fred, Hermione and some mistletoe. At first she’d thought that this was just the bad luck that seemed to be following her around, but as it continued in the days leading up to Christmas, Hermione began to suspect Ginny had something to do with it. She’d taken to running from the room every time she was anywhere near Fred so that she could avoid the situation entirely. She was, however, starting to worry that she’d upset him, because every time she made her excuses and moved away to a different room Hermione saw him left behind doing his best imitation of Ron’s confused goldfish face. Several times she walked into rooms to find him whispering anxiously to George before she hurried away again. She was as anxious and alert in the Burrow as she had been when standing watch over the tent in the forest of Dean. The mistletoe were making it challenging to have a complete conversation with Charlie about dragons, or with Percy about the state of international magical relations, and she was beginning to get frustrated. Mixed with Ginny’s glares, the Weasleys had created quite a stressful Christmas for Hermione.

Finally, when Christmas passed, Hermione felt she could relax again. There was no more need to run from any room that Fred entered now that mistletoe season had passed. There was nothing else that Ginny could do now to force them together. She could relax in front of the fireplace with one of her new books, and actually enjoy it without the fear that mistletoe would spontaneously grow over her head, or that Fred would enter the room. For the first time in several days, Hermione could sit still for more than thirty minutes at a time, and she was going to take advantage of it.

When Fred saw her there on Boxing Day, curled up in an armchair, nearly finished with a book she’d received from Harry the previous day, he couldn’t help but smile. Her hair was starting to come loose from its plait from all the times she’d twisted it around her fingers as she read. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her lips were pursed, as if she didn’t quite understand what she was reading. Or perhaps she disagreed with it – that would be typical of Hermione. Merlin, he missed her – it had only been a few days since they were joking around in the shop together, but he felt like he hadn’t spoken to her in ages and here was his chance.

He grinned and snuck up quietly behind her, crouching beside her chair. The last thing he wanted was her sneaking away from him the way she had been since they’d arrived at the Burrow for the holidays. It worried him a little – they had really started to become friends over the past few months but suddenly, when his family was around, she avoided him and spent time solely with Harry, Ron and Ginny. It was as if, suddenly, they weren’t actually friends. She probably didn’t want to seem to friendly with him…just in case Ron decided that he wanted her back. She didn’t want to ruin her chances with his little brother. He swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth. He was about to resolve her avoidance problem, and maybe even see if Hermione could ever…but that didn’t matter. He wanted to rescue their friendship, at the very least, from whatever tunnel it had disappeared down.

“Boo,” Fred whispered, leaning up next to Hermione. She jumped and spun in her chair to face him and whack him lightly on the arm. He couldn’t help but notice how close her face was to his.

“Fred!” she exclaimed, looking at him sternly. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Then her face softened. She closed her book and turned her whole body to face him. “How are you doing?”

“Better now you didn’t just run away from me again,” he said, the twinkle in his eye loosening the knot in her stomach that had tightened each time she’d run away from him.

Hermione blushed deeply.

“Oh, well you see, Ginny was –”

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione,” Fred said cutting her off before she could explain. He didn’t want anything she said to distract him from what he was trying to do. “More pressing matters, you see. A chance for you to make it up to your poor friend.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows but remained silent, allowing him to continue.

“Well, dearest Hermione. George has just informed me that I’m meant to have a date for his wedding next week. Nice of him to give me some notice, I know,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “but apparently Angelina is concerned about the well-being of her cousins if I’m permitted to go stag.”

Hermione nodded, seeming to agree with George’s assessment, but Fred hardly noticed. He was starting to get nervous, which was so uncommon that it was rather uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath and turning up his Weasley charm and his Gryffindor courage, he fought back his nerves and continued.

“So seeing as you owe me for ignoring me so hurtfully over the last few days, you know, and how you’re the best bird for keeping me out of trouble, I was hoping you might accompany me to the wedding,” he finished with a brilliant smile and a wink.

Hermione laughed and felt her cheeks heating up again.

“Why, Fred Weasley, are you asking me to be your date to George and Angelina’s wedding?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning towards him with narrowed eyes.

“Why, yes, Ms. Granger, I believe I am,” he replied with equal seriousness, leaning closer to her in response. Their faces were quite close now. Hermione was having trouble thinking clearly, but she didn’t want to pull away. Wasn’t this what she’d been waiting for for months now?

She steadied her mind, breathing deeply, and considered for a moment before leaning back into the armchair. She couldn’t take it any longer.

“I normally say no to such last-minute requests, Mr. Weasley. But seeing as I owe you for my appalling behavior, I suppose we’re even,” she teased, ruffling his hair gently. “I would love to accompany you to the wedding.”

“I’ll pick you up at four,” Fred said, winking once again as he stood and went to find George and tell him the news. He couldn’t seem to muster his smirk, however. His face muscles seemed permanently stuck in a wide, goofy grin that he was sure had something to do with the pretty witch he was taking to his brother’s wedding. He was impressed that he’d even managed to walk away from her after that.

Hermione was still processing what had happened when Ginny bounded in from the kitchen, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Did it work?” she asked her still shell-shocked friend.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“What did you do?!” she whisper-yelled at her friend.

“Are you going to the wedding with Fred or what?” Ginny retorted.

“Well, I am, yes. But—”

“Then it doesn’t matter how I did it. You can thank me after the wedding next week.”

Hermione sighed and gave her friend a hug, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to fight this one. She may not agree with her methods, but Ginny certainly knew how to get things done. She was quite like the twins in that way, actually. But this was more progress than Hermione would have made in a year, so she should be grateful even though she was certain that Fred had asked her as a friend. It was better than going alone, and she’d take whatever excuses she could to be near Fred, in whatever way she could.

*        *        *

“You did _what?_ ” Ron nearly shouted at his brother.

“I asked Hermione to go to the wedding with me, you git,” Fred responded calmly.

“But why? If this is another one of your pranks…” Ron began to threaten, his ears turning brilliantly red.

“Oh calm down, Ronnikins,” George cut in.

“But Hermione—”

“Is my best friend too, Ron. Let’s just hear him out,” Harry said, coming up behind his best friend to rest a hand on his shoulder. Ron glanced back at Harry with a look that clearly said _Are you serious? Do you see who we’re talking about?_ but Harry held his ground and Ron shrugged, albeit a bit violently.

“Yes, dear brother.”

“Do hear us out.”

“It was George’s idea, you see.”

“A way to get this chap a date with the brightest witch of our age.”

“But why does he want a date with Hermione?” Ron interrupted.

“Well, Ron. If you hadn’t noticed—”

“Which it would seem you haven’t, as you missed your chance with the girl—”

“Hermione’s quite pretty.”

“Not to mention smart enough to keep up with you, Forge.”

“And even funny, when she’s not trying to scold us,” Fred acknowledged.

“Are you saying you- you—” Ron spluttered.

“You fancy her, mate?” Harry asked, a small smile lighting his green eyes.

Fred smirked at his youngest brother and the boy who lived.

“If you breathe a word of this to Hermione, you’re dead men.”

And then he left the room, a goofy grin still pasted to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers. I am so sorry to be posting this a bit late, but I hope you'll forgive me with this chapter's developments. Thank you all for reading. I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
> 
> And if you're looking for a new story to read, check out Owls from Malfoy Manor, my new fic.
> 
> Looking forward to next week - E. Leigh


	10. Wedding Day Woes

The next week passed in a flurry of wedding preparations, as Mrs. Weasley had enlisted all their hands to help with the work. George and Angelina had decided to have their wedding in the reception hall of what used to be someone’s manor home, and the Weasleys had been spending the last week transforming it into the fairytale that Angelina wanted for her wedding. Soon enough it was New Year’s Eve, the day that they were to be married, and the Burrow was a flurry of excitement and stress. Hermione knew that as the best man, Fred was expected to be there a while before the rest of the guests, so she was getting ready to go, planning to apparate over and meet him at the venue.

She’d spent a couple of hours under Ginny’s care. Ginny had painfully twisted Hermione’s hair, using some combination of brute strength, product and magic until it finally cooperated. Then Hermione had let Ginny spend thirty minutes doing her makeup, leaving her with subtly winged eyes, shadowed in a copper color that seemed to make her eyes shine brighter, and a magically shimmering lipstick that made Hermione feel like she was 14 and going to the Yule Ball again.

When Ginny had run off to get ready with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, the other bridesmaids, Hermione had finally stepped into her dress. It was a gorgeous royal blue one-shoulder number with a sweetheart neckline and a bodice that hugged her curves before seemingly floating to the floor. She and Ginny had picked it up on a post-Christmas excursion to Diagon Alley and she was excited to be wearing it. It made her feel less like a bookworm and more like…well, like a girl.

Hermione took one last glance in the mirror and smiled. Ginny had done an even better job this time than she had for the Yule Ball. Hermione’s hair, instead of being wild and frizzy as it usually was, had been twisted back into some kind of elaborate knot. A few strands were loose, framing her face. And her makeup, despite feeling like Ginny had overdone it, accented all of the things Hermione never realized she should like about herself. She looked _pretty._

_Pretty enough to win over a certain redhead?_ she wondered. She shook her head, took a deep breath and opened the door.

And almost plowed into a dapper Fred Weasley, who, it appeared, had been about to knock.

“Oh, Fred! I didn’t expect to see—”

“Oi, Hermione! I was about to—”

They both paused, and Fred laughed, motioning for Hermione to go first.

“I didn’t expect to see you until after the ceremony!” she exclaimed, beaming up at him.

“I did tell you I’d come to pick you up at four,” Fred said, feigning offense before he smirked. “George will be alright for a few. It only takes a moment to apparate there, and I wanted to see that you got a good seat.”

Hermione was still smiling up at him, and he was having trouble thinking straight. It was all he could do to keep that smirk on his face and finish his sentence, once he got a good look at her. George and Angelina need never have worried about any cousins, because Fred was pretty sure he’d never have noticed them once Hermione walked into the room. This was going to be one hell of a date.

“Hermione, you look incredible,” he said, wishing that he had better words for how amazing she looked.

Hermione blushed and looked at the floor, before looking up through her eyelashes at his smiling face.

“Why thank you, Mr. Weasley. You look quite handsome yourself. Shall we, though? I don’t want to make you late for your duties as best man,” she replied with a small smile and pink still coloring her cheeks.

He offered her his arm and led her from the room so that they could apparate.

“We shall.”

*          *          *

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful. George beamed the moment he saw Angelina coming down the aisle, and Angelina could not have looked more angelic or more like a princess in her gown. Hermione, along with most everyone else in the room teared up when George and Angelina had shared their very heartfelt vows. The pair was truly suited for each other, and Hermione was glad that they’d found one another.

During the cocktail hour, the Weasleys, the Johnsons and the rest of the wedding party were busy around the estate, taking pictures, so Hermione was left to wander around with Harry. It was a nice change; even with he, Ginny and Ron home for Christmas, they hadn’t gotten to spend much time just the two of them together, between interruptions from everyone else, wedding preparations and Hermione’s work at the shop. Walking around the cocktail hour with Harry, making small talk with Muriel and Xenophilius Lovegood, and laughing about the antics of some of the guests was just like old times. Like before the war, almost.

“So, Hermione,” Harry said, leaning against the bar as he waited for their drinks, “Fred, huh?”

“Well he asked, and who was I to say no? We’ve been spending a lot of time together in the shop lately. It might’ve been uncomfortable if I rejected him!” she responded a little too emphatically. Hermione mentally scolded herself for getting worked up over Harry’s question. What had begun as a normal, Hermione-esque logical response had escalated to an unnecessarily defensive retort, and even Harry, oblivious as he was, was sure to notice that.

Harry held up his hands and backed away, “I didn’t mean anything by it, really! But now…would you care to elaborate?”

Hermione shot a glare at Harry, who seemed unperturbed and continued to look back at her with an amused grin.

“Hermione, we’ve been friends long enough that you know that I know something’s going on. Now are you going to tell me what it is, or am I going to guess that you have a thing for Fred?” Harry said.

Hermione blushed and narrowed her eyes at Harry, “I said no such thing!”

Harry continued to stare at her expectantly until she harrumphed and replied again.

“Fine. But if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone – especially Ronald – I am never speaking to you again, understood?” Hermione muttered angrily.

Harry only smiled and nodded. He was pleased to know that Hermione and Fred both fancied each other. Hermione deserved something good in her life, and he liked the idea of the two of them together. He could tell from just the bit of time they’d had over the holidays that the twins were a good influence on Hermione, and that she might actually be loosening up a bit from working in the shop with them. Yes, Harry was pleased with the situation, and he looked forward to doing what he could to help this budding romance along.

“Were you speaking about Ron just now? Have you seen him? It’s been ages since the ceremony, and he just disappeared! I hope he’s not avoiding me! Do you think he could be? I’ve just been wandering around alone and some of the people here are so strange; have you noticed?” Hannah Abbot, looking lovely in a yellow dress and her hair curling around her shoulders, had approached them and was was rambling nervously, her eyes darting around the reception hall. Hermione hadn’t realized that she was at the wedding, but supposed that it made sense, her being Ron’s girlfriend and all.

“The Weasleys are off taking photos for a bit. I’m sure Ron will come back soon,” Hermione reassured the Hufflepuff with a smile. “Until then, you’re welcome to come sit with Harry and I. He was just about to tell me everything that’s been going on at Hogwarts.”

Hannah nodded, looking extremely relieved, and the trio made their way over to a table where Neville and Luna sat. Hermione sighed. As disappointed as she’d been when she found out that Ron was dating Hannah, she could see that this relationship would be good for both of them. Perhaps Ron could share some of his Gryffindor courage with Hannah, and maybe Hannah would make Ron feel important and needed, the way he never would have with another member of the Golden Trio. It was time to let go for real, and move on. And wouldn’t tonight be the perfect time for just that?

“Hermione?” Luna said, interrupting her thoughts, “I was just wondering if you know any of the theory behind disguise charms? I know that they’re N.E.W.T.-level material, and I’m having quite a hard time getting the hang of them.”

“Oh, yes of course, Luna,” Hermione said with a bright smile before launching into an explanation. So enthralled was she, in her explanation of disillusionment magic, that she didn’t notice the reappearance of the wedding party following the photographs, leaving Fred ample opportunity to sneak up on her.

“Playing professor again, are you, Hermione?” he said brightly, his lips right beside her ear.

Hermione jumped, just as he had hoped.

“Oh, Fred! You’re back! You startled me!”

He grinned and continued cheekily. “You know, if you’re into the whole teacher thing, I can think of better ways to fulfill your fantasies of being in charge, pet.”

Hermione turned brilliantly red. She could feel her cheeks burning, and felt they might have caught fire. She began to splutter.

“Oi, mate! She’s practically my sister – shall I start making insinuations about my dear girlfriend Ginny in front of you?” Harry interrupted, coming to her rescue.

Ginny, who had returned to the table along with Ron, was giggling uncontrollably and wagging her eyebrows wildly at Hermione, whose face was turning still redder. Ron’s mouth hung open in confusion and the color of his ears rivaled that of Hermione’s cheeks. Fred looked ever so slightly abashed in response to Harry’s comment.

“Sorry mate – won’t happen again,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Harry nodded his forgiveness and then smiled at his girlfriend, “Would you like to accompany me to the bar?”

The couple walked away, followed shortly thereafter by a still confused and embarrassed Ron, with Hannah. Luna had pulled Neville away, muttering something about watching George and Angelina’s first dance from up close.

Hermione couldn’t meet his eyes. She held tightly to her glass of fruit juice spiked with firewhiskey, her lips pursed around the straw, drinking more quickly than she’d planned. How had she been so stupid, to fancy someone like him? _Merlin’s beard, that was the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to me in a long time. It’s time to reevaluate this, Hermione, you’re clearly too different. Incompatible. No more feelings for Fred Weasley. You are here tonight as friends and nothing more._

“Whoa, there, slow down, Mione,” Fred said, sitting beside her and gently pulling the glass from her clenched hands. “Would you look at me?”

She ignored him and continued to stare at the purple verbena flowers that made up the centerpiece.

Fred sighed, “I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I thought – well you’ve been around with me and George so much lately, that I’d started to tease you the way I tease him. You know, taking the mikey, and innuendoes and such are just so common with us… I’m sorry.”

_There you go, Hermione, he sees you like he sees his twin. Just another person to joke around with: another coworker, another prankster. That’s all. Move along._

Hermione turned to face him, forcing her still-pink face into a forgiving smile.

“You’re forgiven, Mr. Weasley. I just needed a moment to recover my composure. Now, I believe we have a wedding reception to get to?” Hermione stood and gestured to the dance floor.

Fred offered her his arm with a grin. “M’lady, if you will?”

The rest of the evening with the most brilliant girl he knew? Fred couldn’t believe his luck. Now he only had to win her over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello dear readers. Thank you for reading, as always. I love sharing with you and I love hearing your thoughts and ideas on this bit of fiction. Have a lovely weekend!
> 
> -E. Leigh


	11. Eye of the Storm

Fred had given a brilliant best man’s speech, of course. And George and Angelina had looked like the perfect happy couple as they danced together and said hello to all of their guests. The food had been… well Fred thought he remembered liking it. But he was too distracted by his distant date to have much attention for the rest of the wedding.

They’d been on the dance floor together for a while, but they weren’t really dancing together. Neville and Luna had joined them as they left the table, and the dancing that the couple inspired was, well…certainly not intimate in the way Fred had hoped. He could see Ron off in the corner of the dance floor trying not to step on poor Hannah’s toes, and Ginny and Harry were dancing, but had since vanished somewhere, probably to do something Fred would rather not think about. He just wanted to dance with his lovely, brilliant date. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course; he’d requested a few slower songs so he’d have an excuse to get Hermione closer, but every time one came on, she excused herself to the bar, telling him that she was parched. He’d go along with her each time, and order them something cool to drink, but he couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach that was telling him that Hermione just didn’t want to dance with him.

Hermione, on the other hand, was getting tipsier with each slow song that she avoided and was having more and more trouble remembering why she was trying not to dance with Fred in the first place. She fancied him, didn't she? Then why was dancing with him a problem?

"Because he doesn't fancy you back, dummy," she muttered to herself, taking another sip of her drink.

"Are Ickle Ronnikins and his date getting to you, love?" Fred asked, trying to keep the sourness from his voice at the realization that the girl he fancied wasn’t over his brother. He thought he’d had a chance with her. He thought she had moved on, but apparently his little git of a brother was still standing in his way.

Hermione started; she hadn't realized that he'd returned from the loo. She blushed. _Dammit, Hermione. You can't let him hear you talking about him like that_.

"No, of course not, Fred. I'm just fine."

Fred sighed quietly, and then forced his expression back into his trademark grin. If he couldn’t get her to fancy him, at the very least he could get a dance with the lovely witch. Just one dance, and then he’d get over her. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Whatever you say, Hermione. But you know, the best way to get one bloke jealous is to dance with another. Better still if it’s his brother,” Fred said with a wink.

“I—but really, Fred—”

“Nonsense, dear Hermione, I insist,” Fred said, taking her arm and leading her to the dance floor just as a lovely slow melody began to play. “Now put your left arm around my shoulders, yes, just there. And, here, let me hold your right hand. And I’m going to put my arm around your waist, okay?” He pulled her close against his body as he spoke, trying to keep her calm enough not to pull away from him the way she’d done all evening.

Hermione was blushing again. He wondered if her blush drove everyone this mad, or if it was just him that found her pink-tinged cheeks so adorably alluring. _Alright, Freddie boy, get it under control_ , the voice in his head that always sounded like George was telling him. He was having a difficult time, though, with her small body so close to his. He was telling himself that he had to hold her this close if he wanted to help her make Ron jealous, but, in reality, it was probably because he couldn’t foresee any other chance to hold her like this.

Hermione’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on through the fog that the alcohol had left on her brain.

_Would you just shut up?_ she told herself. _This is what you’ve been waiting for so just try and enjoy it. You can get over Fred tomorrow._

She slid her arm from around his neck to rest her palm against his chest, giggling at her pleasant surprise when she could feel his still-toned beater’s muscles beneath his dress shirt.

“What’s so funny, may I ask?” he asked her, a glint in his eye hinting that he may already know the answer.

In response, Hermione gave him a small, mischievous smile and kept quiet, allowing herself to revel in the safety she felt at being this close to Fred. It had been months since the end of the war, but she still found herself waking in a cold sweat at night from nightmares of things that had happened, and things that never would. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so at peace. The months working in the shop had certainly calmed her; they’d given her back some of the carefree Hermione that had existed before she’d entered the magical world and felt the constant pressure to save her friends, to prove her worth. They’d given her the chance to relax, to let go of some of that _constant vigilance_ she’d learned to keep over the last several years. But this, with Fred, was different. It was calm, and stillness, and quiet in the midst of chaos.

Before she was ready for it, the song came to a close. Fred spun her away from him, and then back into his arms, dipping her backwards with a goofy grin as she laughed.

“Thank you for the dance,” Fred said with a small bow.

“The pleasure was mine, Fred.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that dance had its intended effect,” he replied, nodding towards a corner of the room where Ron and Hannah seemed to be snogging while they danced.

Hermione chuckled and looked up at Fred. “Leave them be, you. I think they’re good together, and I danced with you because you’re my date, not to make Ronald jealous.”

Fred’s sputtering confusion was interrupted by an announcement to join the happy couple outside for a surprise and their honeymoon sendoff. Hermione dragged him along outside, where most of the wedding guests had congregated in a large field to await whatever surprise George and Angelina had planned.

About halfway to the group, Hermione’s heel caught in a crack in the cement and broke, causing her to stumble towards Fred, who caught her without a thought.

“Alright there, Mione?” he said, searching her face for signs of distress, his hands still resting on her slim waist.

Hermione glanced up at him and nodded, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. “Thank you for catching me. I reinforced these shoes by magic this morning – I don’t know how this could have happened—”

“Don’t worry about it, pet. I’ll take care of it,” Fred replied softly. Without his permission, his hand left her waist to brush a stray curl from her cheek.

She watched his eyes glance down ( _towards her lips?_ she wondered), and leaned ever-so-slightly towards him.

“Hermione, Fred! Up here!” Ron’s voice called through the darkness, startling them both apart, and causing Hermione to nearly fall again.

“ _Reparo_ ,” he muttered as he pointed her wand at the offending shoe and tried to brush off the annoyance he felt at his brother once again. “Erm, shall we go join the others, then?” Fred asked.

Hermione assented, and they joined Ron, Hannah, Neville, Luna, Harry and Ginny at the front of the group, where they waited with most of the Weasley clan.

Harry looked at her apologetically. “I tried to shut him up,” he murmured.

Hermione smiled and shrugged, before turning back to face the field.

The surprise was a beautiful display of fireworks, clearly designed by Fred and George, which represented the things that had brought George and Angelina together. Quidditch and Hogwarts burst to life above them, among other sparkling, exploding things. Hermione found herself leaning back into Fred’s body as she looked up at the brilliant magic that decorated the sky. His hands gently rubbed up and down her bare arms, soothing the goosebumps away and settling Hermione back into that place of calm that she had started to associate with being close to Fred.

_Who am I kidding,_ she thought as they waved George and Angelina off into the night, _I’m falling even harder for him now than I was before. How am I supposed to get over Fred Weasley now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful readers! Thank you for sticking with me for yet another chapter. I so appreciate all of you who read, comment, kudos, and follow this story. It means the world hearing what you guys think. Have a lovely weekend and I will see you right back here next week.
> 
> -E. Leigh


	12. Trapped

“Oi, Mione? I have to go to the Ministry to deal with some of our permits,” Fred called into the back room as Hermione put the finishing touches on the potion she’d been working on that day.

“Alright, I’ll finish and clean up back here. See you tomorrow, Fred,” she said back.

His head poked around the corner.

“Would you come with me? George usually handles this stuff, and you know the laws so much better than I do,” he pleaded.

Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded. “Give me a moment to clean this up?”

“Lovely, I’ll meet you at the apparation point around the corner, yeah?”

She assented and continued to cast spells to clean the cauldrons and containers she’d been using, then left to meet Fred. Things between them had been quite polite over the last week since the wedding. It had been fine when Harry, Ron and Ginny were still around to keep her busy. But now that she was trying to push her feelings for him aside while she spent time with him, it was clear that one evening of tipsy dancing and snuggling up to him under the fireworks didn’t mean anything to Fred. He hadn’t said a word about it since the wedding. He hadn’t said much at all since the wedding, which was unusual for any of the Weasleys, but particularly for the twins. So she tried to forget about it, as Fred apparently had.

“Hot tea for your thoughts,” the redhead said as she approached, handing her a steaming mug.

“Oh, thank you, Fred! Are you ready to go?”

He offered his arm. “You lead, or shall I?”

“Me!” Hermione said, as she turned on the spot, apparating them to the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry.

She led them effortlessly to the Department of Administrative Registration, where she explained to Fred the different forms he had to fill out, and the decisions he’d have to make regarding that year’s set of permits. It was all done rather quickly, and before they knew it, Hermione and Fred were headed back to the lifts.

She was quiet as they got onto the lift. Being in the Ministry reminded her of her last visit, and of the fact that she had heard next to nothing about the search for her parents. There had been tidbits here and there – snippets of places they had been. But she hadn’t expected to go through the holidays without them. Not for another year. And the Minister’s people seemed no closer to finding them than she had been months earlier.

She stood quietly, leaning against the wall of the lift, about as far away from Fred as she could possibly be. Her arms were crossed and her brow furrowed as she brooded about her parents, oblivious to the comings and goings of the rest of the lift passengers as they neared their destination. Suddenly, the lift began to shake and a creaking noise filled the small compartment. The lift shuttered to a stop.

“Perfect,” she huffed. “As if my luck wasn’t already bad enough lately?”

Fred grunted in acknowledgement, but his lack of witty retort pulled Hermione from her daze. Fred was never quiet. Hermione turned to see his eyes screwed shut as he gripped the bar along the side of the lift. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“Fred, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Did you get hurt when the lift stopped?” she asked frantically, unsure what to do to help him.

“Claustrophobia,” he whispered. She had never seen him like this. There was no humor in his face, no sign of a joke.

_Okay Hermione. He’s having a panic attack. Okay, you know what to do for this. But there’s no calming draught. You know what to do, Hermione. When you have them you need distractions. Distract him, he’ll be okay._

“So, you know, last time I was here, I was looking for a job, asking for help with my parents. And Kingsley, you know, he didn’t give me a job. You and George were there right after that, do you remember?”

Fred nodded, but his jaw and fists were clenched and he seemed to be wheezing.

“How about we sit down, hm? We might be here for a little while,” she said grabbing his hand and pulling him to the floor of the lift with her. “You should maybe try to take deep breaths, yeah? And I’ll just talk to you, just focus on me okay?”

Fred nodded again and squeezed her hand. She hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Well. Anything to distract him, of course.

“I haven’t heard much about my parents since then. I thought they would have been home by now. I miss them. You know, I love your family, but I miss mine. I miss them a lot,” she said, pushing back tears. _Nope, none of that. You’re supposed to be calming him down._ He squeezed her hand again, pulling her out of her own thoughts. She shook her head and smiled feebly at him.

“But I haven’t heard from them, and I’ll have to wait, I suppose.” She was running out of things to say. They were going to have to move into the awkward territory of talking about what had almost happened at the wedding, if she didn’t come up with something to say–

“You should talk to Bill,” Fred said. He still didn’t sound quite normal, but he appeared to be calmer.

“Bill? Why? Can he help find my parents?” she asked. She was confused, but if there was any hope that Bill could help her find her parents.

“Bill has friends from Australia. Curse-breaker friends. They’re probably more competent than whoever Kingsley could spare to send to look for them. I’m sure he’d be happy to ask a favor for you,” Fred offered. He gently dropped her hand and ran his own through his hair. She missed it instantly, but forced herself to focus on his words. “Thanks for helping me calm down. I haven’t been the best with, erm, cramped spaces since that wall, well, you know.”

“It’s alright, Fred. I think we’ve all had our issues since the war. I couldn’t even go to Hogwarts without having a breakdown.” She sighed. “I’m not used to being like this. I used to be tougher than this.”

Fred chuckled. “You’re still plenty tough, Hermione. I still don’t want to be on the wrong end of your wand, and you’re still the smartest witch I’ve ever met. Me on the other hand…”

Hermione smiled. “You are just fine. You’re still the funniest wizard I know. And perhaps the most creative. Claustrophobia, panic attacks? None of that changes the fact that you are one of the two biggest pranksters that Hogwarts has ever seen, and smart to boot.”

She looked down at her hands as she wrung them in her lap, reminding herself that she was supposed to be getting over this redhead. Fred was astonished. They had been friendly, lately. But since the wedding, things between them had been so strange, and he had been second-guessing everything that had happened. He had replayed the moment where he’d almost kissed her over and over, wondering what he’d done wrong, if he’d misread the signals. It was unusual for him to feel so out of his depth with a woman. Flirting usually came so naturally to Fred, but now he didn’t know what to do. Was it possible that she had feelings for him too? He looked up at her. Now was as good a time as any to find out. He looked up at her, not willing to delay and lose his moment of courage. _Merlin, she’s beautiful._

“Hermione—”

“Fred—”

They spoke simultaneously, and Hermione looked away, blushing.

“Ladies first,” Fred said, disappointed.

“Oh no, it was nothing important. Go ahead.”

“Well, er, you know. At the wedding—”

Suddenly, the elevator began to shudder again, and then it continued to move.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Hermione exclaimed, interrupting Fred in her excitement to be free from the lift.

The doors creaked open and mediwizards rushed into the lift to check on them and makes sure that they hadn’t been harmed by their time in the lift.

After a thorough exam, they were free to go, so they headed towards the floo so that they could return to close the shop.

“Oh, Fred, I’m so sorry. You were saying something about the wedding when the lift started working again?” Hermione said, as they cleaned up the shop and covered simmering cauldrons for the night.

“Ah, er. Yeah I just wanted to thank you again for being my date. I—you’re a good friend.” He patted her on the shoulder, mentally kicking himself. _Great job, Freddie. You went from telling her how you feel to telling her that you’re friends. Good move._

“I—well it was no problem. We’re all done here, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow, Fred.”

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione left the shop and apparated back to the Burrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers. Thank you for reading, as always. I hope that you enjoyed – I know that this isn’t them getting together the way most of you wanted, but we’re getting close! And I think the next chapter will be a nice development :) See you for that next week!
> 
> -E. Leigh


	13. Amortentia

Hermione was fed up with the flirtatious back and forth with Fred. It was just flirting. Always flirting, and it never seemed to go anywhere. She was tired of getting her hopes up again and again, only to be disappointed by being his friend every time. She didn’t know why she was so surprised by it – both the twins had a reputation for being smooth with women. But Hermione was finished with it. She would go to work, and interact with Fred as minimally as she could, and then when George got back, she would do everything in her power to interact only with George. And then once her feelings were gone, things could go back to normal. And if that didn’t work she could look for another job until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. But she was not going to let herself be led on any longer.

There were only a few days left of George and Angelina’s honeymoon, before George would be back at the shop. Surely Hermione could make it through a few more days with just Fred in the back room for company.

It was hard work, making excuses about things she needed from the store room every time he came into the back. Her work was taking twice as long as usual, which was why she was still in the shop that night so late after closing. Fred had gone up to the apartment a while ago and she was more than happy to be alone, without worrying that he’d be back again.

Hermione’s hair was even frizzier than normal as she leaned over her cauldron, adding ingredients and stirring her latest potion. She was just putting the finishing touches on a WonderWitch love potion, and then she could finally go back to the Burrow and shower and get into bed.

“Merlin, Hermione. It’s past midnight, why didn’t you tell me you were still here? I could have helped.” Fred was concerned about Hermione. She’d been so strange since the elevator yesterday. He wondered if she hadn’t been entirely honest about seeing him have a panic attack.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m almost finished,” she replied, without looking up at him.

“Nonsense, please, let me help—” he reached for the ladle that she’d set down.

“No, it’s fine—” she said, stretching her hand out for it

“I insist,” he said, pulling it out of her reach.

She leaned towards it, knocking into the cauldron. It rocked back and then tipped towards her, spilling love potion all down her front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“No—it’s my fault. It’s fine Fred. I’m fine. Just stop!” she said in exasperation. She sighed. _Get yourself under control, Hermione. You have to stop_ – her train of thought vanished into the delightful sensation that was seeping through her nerves.

“Hermione, is everything alright? You haven’t been yourself today.”

Hermione didn’t respond. Her head was feeling a little fuzzy. Was her exhaustion catching up to her? She felt a little drunk. And Fred had never looked so gorgeous. _Wow. Is it because I’ve hardly looked at him all day? Did I really forget how handsome he is in one day?_

She stared up at him for what felt like forever. His eyes were so blue. And his freckles…there were so many of them but they were so perfect to frame that perfect grin. And those lips that were always smiling and teasing. Always making her want to kiss him. She really wanted to kiss him right now. She leaned across the cauldron, never taking her eyes off of his handsome, freckled face.

“Whoa there, Hermione,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her upright. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you, Freddie,” she responded matter-of-factly, leaning forward again, this time letting her eyes flutter closed as she puckered her lips. When he didn’t lean in to kiss her, she opened her eyes and pouted at him. “Why aren’t you kissing me?”

Fred’s ears turned bright red, but he brushed it off. “Pretty sure that’s the love potion talking there, pet.”

“No, I’m talking! It’s me! Hermione? Remember me? I work here,” she said, her pout becoming more pronounced.

“Of course I know that, pet,” Fred said, taking her hand and leading her to sit in one of the desk chairs. “But I do think that the potion is affecting your judgment and making you think that you like me a bit more than as a boss or a friend.”

Hermione frowned, feeling confused. She did like Fred as more than a friend or a boss, didn’t she? That’s why she was trying to ignore him today. Granted, ignoring him seemed a terrible decision. But she _did_ fancy him.

“But Freddie, I do like you. Didn’t you know?”

Fred shook his head. This girl was going to be the death of him. Here he was, hearing all of the words he wished she would say on a daily basis, but he couldn’t take a single one of them seriously because she was under the influence of a love potion.

“Mione, why don’t we get you home? We can talk about this tomorrow, but right now it’s late and you’ve been working for far too long. It’s bedtime.”

Hermione wiggled her eyebrows at him. “It’s bedtime? Are you coming with me?”

Fred sighed. If she kept this up, getting to bed would be a little…hard.

“No, you crazy little thing. You are going home to your bed, and I will come back here to mine. Trust me when I say that you’ll be happy about this in the morning. Come on.”

Hermione pouted but allowed Fred to help her put her coat on and pull her upstairs to his fireplace.

“Are you _sure_ I can’t stay here with you tonight?” Hermione said again, looking up through her eyelashes at Fred. It was a move that Hermione had seen Lavender pull many times, and it always worked for her. But it didn’t seem to be working on Fred. Why didn’t he like her the way she liked him?

“Hermione, my dear, I am sure. Let’s get you home.” _Merlin, that pout is killing me. I just want to kiss it away. Well…she won’t mind right now… But in the morning…well in the morning she won’t remember, will she? One of the effects of the potion, Freddie. But that would be very wrong, and you know it._ Fred’s inner voice oscillated between sounding like his mother and his twin brother. They were clearly the angel and the devil on his shoulders.

He shook his head to clear it and then pulled Hermione into the fireplace, dropping the floo powder and shouting for the Burrow in exasperation.

He pulled her up the stairs as she continued to grumble.

“Shh, Hermione. We don’t want to wake up my parents. Come on. I know you’re tired. We’re almost to your room.”

He hadn’t seen his old room since she’d redone it. It was very…her. So many books. And the yellow walls. It made him smile. She was so much different than she’d been in school. She seemed so much calmer, most of the time. At the very least she was much more relaxed about all the pranking.

“Alright, here you are. Goodnight, Hermione. See you tomorrow.”

She frowned again. Those pouty lips were driving him crazy. He needed to get out of here before he did anything he, or she, would regret in the morning.

“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss, baby?”

He frowned slightly, and strengthened his resolve as much as he could before bending down and kissing her gently on the forehead. It took everything he had not to kiss her the way he wanted to.

As he pulled away, though, she caught him by the lapel and pulled him back, bringing her lips to his in a kiss so firey it made him question whether the girl in front of him was actually Hermione at all. That was the last blow that his self-restraint could take. He wanted her so badly that he could no longer process the consequences of kissing her now. His mind filled with her explosion of passion. She was so beautiful. So brilliantly sexy. He gave in, one hand finding her waist and the other cradling her head, his fingers tangling in her hair and his thumb stroking her cheek. He pulled her close to him, her body right up against his, and he kissed her.

When she felt Fred kiss her back, Hermione responded instantly, opening her mouth to him, and pulling him closer against her. The kiss became deeper, rougher. Fred groaned. It felt so right to have her body so close, her mouth moving against his, her hands frantically pulling him closer, pulling the hem of his dress shirt free from his pants—

“Whoa, Hermione,” he said, pulling away, breathing heavily. This was already more than he should have let happen

“But Fred…”

“Hermione that is more than enough for tonight. Please just go to sleep, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he replied. Fred quickly backed out the door and shut it behind him, not stopping until he was back in his own bedroom. He leaned against the closed door, running his hands through his hair, still breathing heavily, the kiss playing over and over again in his head.

_Now what are you going to tell her, Fred? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. That was such a terrible idea._

Fred groaned and couldn’t help agreeing with his mother’s voice in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely, patient readers. First, I’d like to offer my apologies for this update coming on Sunday, rather than Saturday as I promised. I was on vacation with my family and chose not to use my computer while I was with them. Second, thank you all for reading and sticking with this story. Your comments, and your presence here, means the world to me. I hope that you enjoyed the contents of this chapter (finally), although I hope it still came as a bit of a surprise. Many of you have been begging me for this moment for weeks now, so I hope it was everything you wanted ;)  
> Thank you again for your patience with me! I will see you back here on Friday, lovelies.  
> -E. Leigh


	14. Snowfall and Falling Out

The following morning, Hermione awoke to her alarm with what felt like the most horrible hangover she’d ever had.

She groaned. “What in the name of Merlin did I do last night?”

She fell back onto her pillow, closing her eyes tightly and wishing she had some hangover potion in her bedroom. Slowly, she sat back up and opened her eyes. She at least needed to find a quill and paper to write Fred and tell him she wouldn’t make it in to work this morning. Stumbling over to her desk, she saw Fred’s owl preening, a small package tied to his leg.

“Hello, Houdini. Do you have something for me?” Hermione mumbled as she ran her hands through her wild hair. The owl stuck out his leg and allowed Hermione to untie the package. “Thank you. If you go downstairs, I’m sure Molly will have a nice treat for you.”

Houdini hooted at her, and then flew away. Hermione took the package and collapsed back onto her bed, a wave of nausea joining her headache in their mission of misery.

_Hermione_ , the note read, _I had a feeling that after your misfortune with the love potion –_ what love potion? Hermione wondered – _last night you wouldn’t feel so good. When George and I were developing these products, we had some mishaps, and they never left us feeling the best. Here’s the potion we created to counter the side effects. Take the day off, and I’ll see you bright, early, and feeling better tomorrow morning. –F_

Hermione smiled slightly at his note, took a swig of the potion, and collapsed back into bed, too tired to puzzle out exactly what had happened.

*          *          *

Fred spent the day obsessing over what to do about the previous night, which was why, despite knowing that Hermione would be fine a few hours after taking the love potion antidote, he had given her the day off. He needed to figure this out. He didn’t want to lie to Hermione, but he didn’t want to ruin their friendship by telling her the truth either. Not to mention that George would kill him if he lost their most productive employee. She wouldn’t remember, anyway…

*          *          *

The following day got off to a much more normal start. Hermione was still acting strangely around him, but Fred brushed it off as residual effects from the love potion, and trying to process her memory loss. She had asked about it the second she arrived at the shop that morning. He felt momentarily relieved that she couldn’t remember, but his stomach quickly sunk as he realized that telling her would be his responsibility.

“What happened then? I can’t remember anything from last night,” Hermione had said when she arrived that morning.

“Well, you were splashed with some potion. And then you told me you fancied me and begged me to kiss you. Not that I blame you of course,” Fred said with a wink as Hermione blushed furiously at his anecdote. “So then I took you back to the Burrow and you went to sleep. And you, of course, know the rest.”

He’d gone forward with his plan not to tell her about their kiss, but now he was feeling horribly guilty. He wanted her to know, and he wanted her to ask him to kiss her again. He just wanted to feel her lips on his again, and not just the memory of it. He wanted what happened between them to be real – not just the effects of one of his idiotic pranks.

The day was dragging on, and Fred was avoiding Hermione as much as she had been avoiding him. She didn’t mind, though, as it was helpful with her resolution to move on from the Weasley twin. And this was the last day that they would be alone before George got back from his honeymoon, and then it would be much easier to avoid him. So she worked diligently, asking as few questions as possible and keeping quiet in her corner of the back room. She was so focused that she didn’t notice when the snow started early in the afternoon. She didn’t notice that the normal stream of customers into the store had slowed to a stop. She didn’t notice Verity leaving early, or the announcements about the blizzard over the Wizarding Wireless in the main shop.

“Hermione!” Fred said, coming into the back room for the first time in a few hours. “What are you still doing here? I thought that you left ages ago!”

Hermione looked up from the charms she was working on and shrugged. “I wasn’t finished yet. And it’s not time for me to leave yet anyway,” she said, checking her watch, slightly confused.

He shook his head and pulled her to the window.

“There’s a storm, Hermione!”

“I’ll just leave now, Fred. It’s not a big deal. I’ll floo from the apartment,” she said, still not sure why he was so concerned.

“The storm has interrupted the floo network. There’s two feet of snow on the ground already, and it’s still coming down. You can’t apparate back to the Burrow, because with the wards up, there’s too long a walk between the apparation point and the house. And besides, the Ministry has issued a no-travel warning. I thought Verity told you, or you would have heard on the radio!” Fred said, exasperated.

Hermione felt abashed. Maybe if she hadn’t been ignoring him, she would have known all this.

“Well, I’ll—”

“You’ll stay upstairs, in the apartment with me,” Fred said firmly, though in the back of his mind he worried how he’d make it through an evening with such a secret between them. “My mother would kill me if I let you travel in this. Not to mention, George and I are very much in need of your brilliance and extra hands in the shop, and I don’t know what we’d do if they had frostbite.” His teasing was halfhearted. He was clearly worried about the storm, Hermione thought.

“I’ll just wrap up down here—”

“Nonsense, come on. The shop’s closed. We’ll have a snow day. I’ll cook us some dinner. You can sleep in George’s old bed, borrow a shirt of mine to sleep in…”

Hermione smiled tightly and nodded, thanking him for his hospitality as they made their way upstairs.

Fred poured them each a glass of wine, and they chatted as he began to make lasagna. They chatted about the Fred’s family, Harry, Ron and Ginny’s last year at Hogwarts, the search for Hermione’s parents, and drank glass after glass of wine as Fred cooked, and then they ate. Throughout, Hermione stubbornly held her resolve to get over Fred. She said nothing more than politely friendly, and focused on not reading into any of Fred’s responses.

After dinner they moved to the couch to continue their conversation.

“Outta wine, love. Firewhiskey alright?” Fred called from the kitchen, where he was rummaging through cabinets.

Hermione assented and smiled to herself through the haze of wine-slurred thoughts. With glass after glass of wine it seemed somewhere she’d lost some of the stubbornness that she depended on to keep her away from Fred. It took so much energy to avoid him, and it seemed that no matter what she did, she came back to the same conclusion. There was no forcing herself to get over Fred. She would just have to let this silly little crush run its course and deal with her feelings until then.

“So did ol’ Billy boy help you out with the search for your parents?” Fred asked, entering the living room with tumblers of firewhiskey and interrupting her thoughts.

“Oh, yes! He said he has a few of his friends in Australia keeping a look out for Monica and Wendell. It was a great suggestion, thank you,” she said with a smile.

Fred sat down next to her, closer than he’d been before. All he could think about was their kiss. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to stop hiding his feelings for the beautiful, brilliant witch in front of him.

Hermione was distracted. She absentmindedly licked her lips as she looked at him. Maybe if they just kissed, he would push her away and she’d be able to get over her crush. Probably not. But she could at least try. What could it hurt?

_Why does she have to lick her lips like that? It’s too much. I want to—_

Hermione knew that her actions were uncharacteristic, but she just wanted to kiss him so badly. And the warmth from the fireplace and the alcohol seemed to serve only to blur her senses spur her on. She leaned towards him, and touched his cheek gently, distracting him from his thoughts. She bit her lip. She could do this. She could kiss Fred. It would be fine. _Just do it. Lean—_

“Hermione, wait,” Fred said, stopping her just before their lips met. His voice sounded pained even to his own ears.

Hermione pulled back, blushing furiously, and feeling completely ridiculous. _Stupid, stupid, Hermione. What did you really think that would accomplish? Haven’t you realized by now that you’re not his type?_

“I’m so sorry, Fred. I’ll just… try the floo. Maybe it’s working again,” she said desperately, moving to stand and gather her things.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down onto the couch. “Hermione, wait just one moment please,” he pleaded. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Hermione sat down, but looked studiously at her own lap, still berating herself.

“Hermione, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

This caused her to look up in surprise. “What do you mean—”

He held up a hand and continued. “The other night, when you were drunk on love potion... I told you that you asked me to kiss you. Several times.”

Hermione nodded but kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. She didn’t particularly want to think about it anymore. The mental images his story conjured in the place of her memories were painfully embarrassing.

“Hermione, I didn’t just send you to bed. You kissed me, and – well, we kissed, Hermione.”

Fred was quiet. He was looking at Hermione, but Hermione refused to meet his eyes.

She was mortified. She had kissed Fred? She’d kissed him and now she had no recollection of it. She’d kissed him and it meant so little that he hadn’t even wanted to tell her about it.

Without another word, Hermione made her way quickly to George’s room and warded the door. Fred wouldn’t be able to get in, or hear her crying. She collapsed on the bed, sobbing. If only she had just gotten over him like she’d meant to. But now she had to deal with the fact that she’d gotten everything she’d been dreaming about for the past few months, only to find that it meant nothing. She didn’t even have the memory of it to hold onto. She fell into a fitful sleep once her sobs and the sound of Fred’s frantic, upset voice outside her door had abated.

 


	15. Last Chance

Hermione woke up early the following morning to another splitting headache. This time, though, it was caused by the previous night’s crying jag and the apparently excessive amount she’d had to drink. She was still groggy as she quietly gathered her things and checked the floo network. That had been one of the worst nights of sleep since the war. She hadn’t had so many nightmares in one night since immediately after her run-in with Bellatrix. But these nightmares were different. These nightmares weren’t about Voldemort, or Malfoy Manor. In these nightmares, everyone she loved had left her.

In one, Harry and Ron were aurors. They told her they didn’t have time for silly girls who messed around at joke shops as they were doing work that mattered. They were sorry, but why didn’t she go find some new friends.

In another, Molly and Arthur told her that she took up too much space, and they needed her to move out immediately. She had overstayed her welcome and was no longer invited to be a part of the Weasley family. In her dream, Ginny, Ron, and Fred stood to the side, agreeing with everything that their parents said.

In yet another, she’d found her own parents, only to have them be so angry with her for modifying their memories that they told her to permanently make them Monica and Wendell Wilkins and leave them alone forever so that they wouldn’t have to live with such a disgrace of a daughter.

In her dreams, she was alone. Left again and again by the people most important to her. The people that she’d never thought would leave her.

She shook herself out of the memories of her horrible dreams. Nobody had left her. Even Fred had tried to talk to her after she’d walked away from him last night. And if she were honest with herself, she had probably overreacted to what he had told her. She had been upset because of feelings he didn’t even know she had. She’d been upset because she couldn’t remember something that she had been trying to imagine for ages. She’d been upset because it seemed she had missed her one chance to be with Fred. And Merlin did it hurt to move on.

Her feelings for Fred were getting out of hand and interfering with her life. There was no way around it, Hermione was going to have to start looking for a different job, whether she liked it or not. She couldn’t handle this heartache any longer.

The floo appeared to be functional again, and the snow had definitely stopped at some point in the night, so she stepped into the fireplace and whispered for the Burrow. All she wanted was real pajamas and her own bed. She didn’t want to think or dream any more.

As soon as she was back to the Burrow, she wrote to Ginny, explaining everything that had happened over the past two days. She knew that her best friend would give her some much-needed perspective, hopefully by the time Hermione woke up again.

She could imagine Ginny’s response, even as she wrote her own letter.

_Hermione, my brothers are all gits. I thought you’d have figured that out by now. I love them, but it’s true. Fred—well, you know Fred. Always flirting with everyone, and can’t resist a good snog. Especially from a pretty girl like you. Try not to be too mad at him, Mione. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, and I can pretty much guarantee that he feels terrible about not telling you. He did tell you all on his own, after all. Besides, he didn’t know that you have feelings for him. He probably assumed it was just the love potion and did all he could to shut you up._ She could imagine Ginny’s suggestive smile at that. And she knew that the Ginny in her mind was right. Hermione just needed some time and space to calm down and move on from Fred. Then she’d be fine. In the meantime, she would look for a new job.

Once her letter was with Ophelia and on its way to her best friend, Hermione showered, put her pajamas on, and climbed into bed. She knew that Fred would not expect her to show up at work today, after everything that had happened, and George was returning to the shop, so she didn’t have to worry about leaving them short-staffed. With those thoughts in mind, she fell back into a deep, but fitful sleep, never noticing the envelope that had been left on her dresser.

*            *           *

A few hours later, she awoke with a start to a loud rapping on her door. She was disoriented. Her dreams, this time, had been disjointed and confusing, as though she’d been wandering around looking for something that didn’t actually exist. She awoke feeling strangely frustrated.

“Hermione Granger, let me in!” George yelled from the hallway, rattling the magically locked door on its hinges.

She heard a scuffle, and then Molly. “George, you leave the poor girl alone.”

“Hermione, please let me in?” George asked again, his lowered voice his only acknowledgment of his mother.

She should have expected this. Fred and George never did anything alone. Even arguments, it seemed.

Hermione sighed and pulled herself out of bed. It had to be at least noon, judging by the light coming through her window. It was time to face the music. She made her way to the door and opened it to find George and Mrs. Weasley fighting to be closest to the door, and Mr. Weasley standing behind them, looking concerned as he tried (and failed) to get them to stop arguing.

"Oh, Hermione, dear, are you alright? I was so concerned with the snow and you didn't come home last night. And then this morning you were here but sleeping so late," Molly gushed, giving her a once over. "Are you sick?"

"I stayed at the apartment last night," Hermione explained, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes. "The storm was too bad by the time I realized and I couldn't get home or send an owl. I'm sorry that I worried you, Mrs. Weasley. And you're right. I wasn't feeling well this morning. I'm a bit better now, though," she reassured the Weasley matriarch.

"Are you sure you're well enough to see George, dear?" It was clear that Molly didn’t believe she was fine, and that she knew there must be more to the story than her son or Hermione was letting on.

Hermione nodded, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made their way down the stairs, whispering to one another and shooting curious glances back up the stairs.

“May I come in, Hermione?” George asked quietly. He gave her a gentle smile as his eyes searched her face. His stare gave Hermione a chance to look a George. He was identical to Fred in nearly every way, yes. But there was a twist to his mouth that Fred didn’t have when he smirked, and George lacked the smiling crinkle at the corner of Fred’s eyes. She’d never had much trouble telling them apart, but until now, she wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what it was about them that set them apart from one another.

Hermione moved out of the way. George entered and sat down on her bed, patting the space beside him for her to come join. Hermione sighed but assented.

“George, if you’re here to convince me to speak to Fred—” Hermione began before George could speak.

“Hermione, you should at least give him the chance to explain why…”

“You don’t understand why I can’t,” Hermione replied. She may have known that she overreacted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to see Fred without having her heart break all over again. It hurt enough as it was.

“Hermione, I know that you’re upset with him right now. I understand that much,” George said, looking at her calmly. “I’d be happy to listen to anything else that’s going on, though.”

“George, I appreciate you coming here in his defense but—”

“Hermione,” he said earnestly, looking at her as if he was trying to read everything that was bothering her from her eyes. “Hermione, you can talk to me. What’s going on? Fred is…Well, I’m worried!”

“George,” Hermione was struggling to keep her voice from betraying her emotions. “I can’t see him anymore.” Her voice cracked, and he looked at her with sympathy.

George placed an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and hugged her gently to his side, understanding beginning to dawn. “I know that you’re not telling me something. But I promise you that you’ll understand more if you just talk to him. Let him explain what happened that night. Please. Just for a few minutes.”

Hermione sighed. He clearly wasn’t going to leave until she agreed to go to the shop and talk to Fred.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to him. Give me five minutes to get dressed and I’ll come back to the store with you,” Hermione assented.

As she left her room, Hermione noticed the envelope sitting on her dresser. She picked it up and carried it downstairs with her, opening it carefully as she went. _What a perfect distraction from the disaster that I’m about to become_ , she thought.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Hermione said, stepping into the fireplace, and beginning to skim the contents of the letter.

When they arrived at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, George led her to the back room, apparently to make sure that she wouldn’t back out of what she’d agreed to. She was still reading the letter in her hand as she absentmindedly followed along behind him, weaving through the rows of shelves and products without looking up.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said uncomfortably when they reached the workroom where Fred was perched on a stool, working on a potion. The twins shared a look before George backed out of the room slowly, shutting the door behind him, but Hermione still hadn’t acknowledged the twins or looked up from the letter in her hands.

“Hermione—” Fred began. He looked terrible, as though he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all that night. The circles under his eyes hadn’t been so dark since his time in St. Mungo’s after the war.

She held up a hand to silence him, still engrossed in the piece of parchment she held. Even Fred couldn’t distract her from _this_ letter.

Fred remained quiet for a minute, but when she still didn’t acknowledge him, he interrupted once again.

“Hermione, what is that?”

She ignored him and continued to read for a few moments more.

Finally, after what felt like years to Fred, she looked up at him. “Fred, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Something’s come up. We’ll have to talk about this when I get back.” She seemed truly apologetic. Maybe she would be more likely to forgive him than he had originally thought.

“Hermione, where are you going? What’s going on?” Fred was concerned. After weeks of open conversation between them, he was hurt to realize that one hidden kiss was all it took to break their friendship. _What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait a few hours? Why can’t she just give me another chance?_

“Fred, Bill’s friends found my parents. I can’t do this right now. I have to go to Australia,” she looked at him pleadingly. “Please let me go.”

“Hermione, I can’t do that. I’m coming with you.”


	16. Australia

_“Fred, Bill’s friends found my parents. I can’t do this right now. I have to go to Australia,” she looked at him pleadingly. “Please let me go.”_

_“Hermione, I can’t do that. I’m coming with you.”_

When Fred spoke, it was the most serious he’d ever looked in his life. It took Hermione’s breath away.

“Hermione, you started the whole search off on your own. You were alone all summer. You shouldn’t be doing this alone. I know you can, and you would, but you shouldn’t have to be alone all the time. I know better than most that you’re stubborn as hell, and I know that you don’t like to ask for help, but Merlin Hermione, sometimes you have to.

“I know you’d rather have Harry, or Ron, or Ginny, or probably anyone else in the world over me to go with you. But you know that they can’t right now, and I can, and I want to help you. I’m here. I promise you that I can be a good friend to you – a better friend than I have been lately. Please, Hermione,” Fred pleaded.

Hermione was torn. She could pretty much guarantee that spending a few days with Fred – having his help finding her parents, letting him see her during the moments she was sure she would feel like breaking – would do nothing to help the painful crush she’d developed. But he was also right. She didn’t want to have to do everything alone anymore – that hurt almost as much as the cracks in her heart. The war was over. It was time to let people in again.

“Okay, you can come. I might need the help, and you’re right. The company will be nice. But are you sure that the shop can spare us both for a few days?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Georgie boy owes me. And he’ll understand, I know he will. Go pack, tell Mum where we’re going, write to Harry and the others. I’ll take care of getting us off work,” Fred assured her. “I’ll meet you at the Ministry in two hours.”

*          *          *

The next few hours were a blur of packing and speedy explanations. Fred managed to get them an international portkey, and before she knew it, Hermione found herself back in Australia.

“Alright there, Mione?”

She nodded. “I just forgot the time difference. I didn’t realize it was the middle of the night here. We won’t be able to go to my parents until tomorrow. They won’t remember me. I can’t just knock in the middle of the night.” She was disappointed. She had their address. She knew exactly where they’d be right now, and yet her inability to go to them made it feel as though they were still missing.

“Why don’t we go find the hotel that Elliot booked us, yeah? That way we can try to get some shut-eye,” Fred suggested.

Hermione shrugged. The last thing she wanted right now was more sleep. It was like, since reading the letter, she had been shot full of an electric need to move, to plan, to see her parents. It buzzed through her veins and searched for an outlet, and Hermione knew that sleeping was out of the question.

They followed Bill’s friend Elliot’s directions to the hotel he’d booked for Hermione. In his very long letter, he had not only detailed where he’d found her parents, but also explained that he’d made arrangements for her lodging starting immediately. He was going to meet them at the hotel in the morning to help them find Hermione’s parents. She held the letter in her hands the whole way, reading it, refolding it and then unfolding it to read it again. If Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything about her nervous energy.

Hermione checked them in at the hotel that Elliot had arranged. It was a very nice muggle hotel, apparently near where her parents had been found. Fred carried their luggage upstairs, despite Hermione’s protests. She felt like she could carry Fred and their bags up with all her energy, but she allowed him to instead.

When they entered the room they were greeted with yet another surprise. Elliot had thought Hermione would be coming to Australia alone.

“Ah well. I can go downstairs and request a room change,” Fred offered, looking from the lone queen-sized bed in the center of the room to Hermione, and back again. He rubbed the back of his neck and the tips of his ears had begun to burn red.

“Hotel’s booked up for weeks. It’s a miracle, or more likely magic, that Elliot even managed to get us this room,” Hermione responded. “I’m sorry though,” she said glancing up at him, “This is obviously just another case of my bad luck at work. I’m starting to wonder if someone’s cursed me. It’s getting out of hand.” Momentarily she was distracted, wondering if perhaps this bad luck curse was more than just a joke she made to feel better. It wasn’t like she didn’t have any enemies since the war ended. There were still people who disliked her enough to use some subtle spell to ruin her life slowly. It was possible that someone had hexed her… But she could deal with that later. Now was the time for her parents. And Fred. She sighed inwardly and pushed thoughts of her parents aside enough to think about what she’d gotten herself into. There was only one bed, and she’d be sharing it with _Fred_. She blushed at the thought.

Fred smiled down at her, pulling the bags further into the room and Hermione out of her thoughts. “No worries. I don’t mind the floor.”

She hesitated a moment, biting her bottom lip and then Hermione shook her head. “It’s a big bed. I don’t mind sharing. I can pile some pillows between us or something.”

“Are you sure?” Fred said, looking at her earnestly.

Hermione nodded. “I’m not really tired anyway. Too much excitement today.”

Fred sat down on the bed, fidgeting with the blanket. He ran a hand through his hair before looking up at her. “Can we talk, then?”

Hermione had been expecting this. It had felt like they were walking on eggshells with one another since she agreed to have Fred come along. They had to address what had happened or risk losing their friendship entirely. Maybe it was time for Hermione to be honest with Fred about her feelings, if only to explain why she’d reacted the way she had.

She sat down on the bed a foot away from him. “Fred, why didn’t you tell me what really happened?”

He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair again. “I was so ashamed of what I’d done. I took advantage of you, Hermione! You were so damn hard to resist, and I know that’s no excuse. I was all ready to walk out of there, I promise you. I knew that you were only saying the things you’d said – all of that flirting! – because of the love potion, but still, when you kissed me…. I kissed you back. And then I acted like a coward because I was afraid of ruining what we had,” he said, looking at her.

Hermione nodded, but didn’t look up at him. “I’m sorry if I overreacted. It’s strange knowing that something like that happened, but I don’t remember it at all.” She chanced a glance at Fred. He was still staring at her, his face alight with hope. She felt her cheeks heat, and her Gryffindor courage failed her in the face of a handsome ginger who just wanted to be her friend.

“Are we alright, Hermione?” Fred asked her quietly.

She sighed, nodded, and flopped backwards onto the bed, closing her eyes. “We’re alright, Fred.”

“You tired?” he asked, looking back at her relaxed figure.

Hermione shrugged in response. She didn’t think she’d ever be tired again. The electric energy had struck her embarrassment and now along with the tingling sparks in her veins, butterflies had filler her stomach, her lungs, her throat.

“Want to talk about it? That’s what friends are for, you know,” he said, shooting her a grin. She half smiled, her eyes still closed, and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Fred slid back onto the bed beside her, leaning his head on his hand as he lay on his side to look at her.

Her eyes fluttered open at the movement of the bed. She didn’t seem surprised that Fred was so close. She bit her lip nervously, thinking about the one question that had been bothering her since Fred told her about _the incident_.

“Was it at least good?” she whispered. “The kiss?”

Fred looked down at her in surprise and tried to hold in a chuckle.

“That’s what’s on your mind? Whether you’re a good snog?”

“Well I don’t remember anything about it!” Hermione retorted, her cheeks flaming. “Who knows if I was actually in control of my lips?”

Suddenly, Fred was serious again, staring down at her as if what he was about to say was the most important thing he’d ever told her. She looked back up into his blue eyes and tried her hardest to breathe despite the now furious flapping of her resident butterflies.

“Hermione, that was one of the best kisses of my life,” Fred told her. His voice had grown husky, and his stare was intense. “I have replayed kissing you over and over again since the other night. I shouldn’t have done it – I know…but when else was I ever going to have a chance with you? I have wanted to kiss you so badly, for so long, Hermione.”

He glanced down at her lips and a quiet groan escaped his throat. “When you bite your lip like that, it drives me crazy,” he whispered, his face getting ever closer to hers. Hermione’s eyes were wide in surprise. She was frozen. Nobody had ever spoken to her the way Fred was right now, as if he wanted her. It was as if her brain short-circuited.

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, Hermione, now would be the time to say something,” he murmured, staring at her intently. When she didn’t respond, he closed the distance between them and hesitantly brushed his lips against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people. Thank you for sticking with me despite my lack of regular Friday updates. This is the last chapter I have written, so, unfortunately, updates may become a bit sparser. With classes beginning and the start of my teaching position, I will likely have a bit less time for this fic. I could never abandon it – I am far too attached to this story – but it may be a bit longer between updates. We probably have about 5 chapters to go, I’d imagine, so I will do my best to get them to you. As always, thank you for reading. It means so much to have so many loyal followers and to hear what you think about this story.
> 
> I will do my very best to see you back here next week.
> 
> -E. Leigh


	17. Something New

_“If you don’t want me to kiss you, Hermione, now would be the time to say something,” he murmured, staring at her intently. When she didn’t respond, he closed the distance between them and hesitantly brushed his lips against hers._

This was all Hermione needed. With the touch of his lips, Hermione suddenly burst from her stillness, brought back to life like the princess in some muggle fairy tale. She reached around Fred to pull him closer, threading her fingers into his hair. With Hermione’s response, Fred became more enthusiastic, rolling to hover over her as they kissed.

She wasn’t sure how long they kissed. It felt like hours and only moments at the same time, and she’d been lost in it, her mind cleared in a way she’d never been able to accomplish before. When they broke apart, she was breathless and flushed and found that without her knowledge, one of her legs had wrapped itself around Fred’s waist, holding his hips against her.

She blushed a deeper shade of red and slowly disentangled herself from Fred. He rolled back to his side, still peppering kisses onto her cheek, nose and neck, keeping her curled against his chest.

“No need to be embarrassed, love,” he whispered, smirking into her neck. “Although I do happen to enjoy seeing you all flushed and flustered like this.”

“Sorry for getting carried away,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away from him.

Fred chuckled as he leaned to look down into her beautiful honey-colored eyes. He brushed some hair away from her face before he spoke.

“You don’t need to apologise for that, Mione. You can get carried away with me whenever you like,” he teased, causing her blush to deepen. Maybe it would have been better if she’d just pined after Fred the rest of her life, after all. Then he’d never have to know about her…inexperience. Perhaps it was time to start reading some of those books her mother had liked so much when Hermione was growing up.

“I think that should be all of the getting carried away we do for tonight,” she replied quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey, no problem, love,” he said, touching her face gently and pulling her to look at him. “No pressure here, I promise.”

She smiled slightly and rolled towards him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her petite body. She relaxed as the weightlessness of complete calm floated over her.

“Fred?” she said, finding her courage in the comfort of his arms. He made a noise of contented acknowledgement and Hermione continued. “I’m sorry, but there’s something I should have told you earlier.”

At this, Fred loosened his hold on the beautiful witch enough that he was able to see her face. His brow furrowed as he contemplated her words.

“What do you mean?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

“What you said earlier – about the love potion – the story you told me? It’s not… well, it’s just that it’s not entirely accurate.” She paused, but his silence urged her to continue, so filling her lungs until they felt about to burst, she allowed the truth to spill from her lips like a waterfall. “I—those things I said—they were true. They’ve been true for months,” she said quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

She felt his body relax back against her and she looked back up at him. She hadn’t even realized he’d been worried until he wasn’t anymore. And now he was smirking at her. _Does he ever stop smirking?_ she wondered, and then made herself blush as she imagined the best way to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Hermione Granger, are you trying to tell me that you fancy me? Because if you are, I must warn you that it is my responsibility to snog you senseless,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

In response, she pulled his lips back down to hers.

*          *          *

“For a pair Gryffindors, we’ve been bloody cowards,” Fred chuckled a while later. Hermione’s responding laugh echoed off the bathroom tiles and filled the room with the kind of bright warmth that he had struggled to find since the war.

“And to think it took all this to get us here,” Hermione said, smiling as she emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pyjama shorts and a lacy camisole. He was lying diagonally across the bed, shirtless. The muscles that Hermione had felt beneath Fred’s dress shirt at the wedding were now fully visible, and Hermione stopped at the foot of the bed, stunned into a pleased silence.

“See something you like, you gorgeous, sexy woman?” Fred asked, distracting her from following the trail his red chest hair made as it traveled from his bellybutton towards the top of his plaid pants.

She blushed a brilliant red and climbed into bed beside him. He rolled to put an arm around her, his hand skimming the exposed skin between her top and her shorts. Hermione’s breath caught and she lost track of whatever embarrassing thought had popped into her head at that moment. There had been several of them, in the last few hours.

“Because I see many, many things that I like,” he said huskily in her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck.

Hermione was fairly certain that she was never going to stop blushing again, between her own suddenly out-of-control imagination, and Fred’s frequent, seductive insinuations. But tonight was not the night. She was going to have to do plenty of research before she even thought about that night. Hermione blushed again at the thought.

She rolled to face Fred and looked at him sternly. “Goodnight, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a note of finality, before settling against his side, her head resting on his chest.

“Oh, yes it is,” he said with a smile, lying on his back with Hermione’s bushy hair tickling the bottom of his chin. He kissed the top of her head lightly and closed his eyes, wondering how in the name of Merlin this had happened.

*          *          *

Hermione had tried to sleep. She really had. But she had gotten more than her share of sleep the evening before, and the thought of seeing her parents again… the what-ifs were enough to keep her tossing and turning all night.

There were so many things that could go wrong. What if she couldn’t reverse the magic? What if she could and they decided they’d rather be Monica and Wendell? What if they hated her for modifying their memories in the first place? She’d certainly had enough dreams about that scenario over the last year. There was even a chance that Elliot hadn’t actually found her parents, and that this trip had all been for nothing.

And when she wasn’t worrying about finally seeing her parents in the morning, she was wringing her hands over the _very_ handsome man lying beside her in bed. He’d kissed her, of course. But he hadn’t said he actually fancied her, had he? He’d implied that he wanted her, but, well…boys always seemed to want something, didn’t they? Maybe it wasn’t really Hermione he was after. Or maybe it was but in the casual, non-committal sort of way he always seemed to be with girls.

“Hermione,” Fred groaned beside her, waking up enough to sit up and look down into her wide, startled eyes, “it’s the middle of the night, and I can practically hear you overthinking this, even in what was a very deep sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Fred. I’ll try to keep still a bit more.”

“That’s not what I mean, pet,” he said, his eyes finding hers in the dark. He sighed. “I fancy you, Hermione. You’re a brilliant witch and I care about you. I want you to tell me when you’re worried – when you’re not sleeping. I’ve never wanted that before with a bird, but I do with you, so would you please tell me what’s on your mind instead of stealing all my covers while you perform mental gymnastics?”

The grey light of dawn was beginning to creep into the room when he saw Hermione’s answering smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I can do that, Fred Weasley. But first, I’d like to sleep,” she yawned as she wiggled back against him, allowing herself to become the small spoon. “I suddenly feel much calmer.”

And she did. For the first time in weeks, Hermione Granger fell into a deep, restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my readers! Surprise! I managed to finish a chapter last night and decided to share it immediately. I hope you enjoyed this installation – I know it’s what most of you have been waiting for since chapter 1! As always, I’d love to know what you thought of it. Thank you for reading!  
> -E.Leigh


	18. Facing Fears

Only a few hours after falling asleep, Hermione woke to her wand buzzing somewhere nearby. She groaned and tried to sit up, only to realize that there was an arm lying across her waist and pinning her against the bed. The events of the previous night suddenly came flooding back to her and she rolled quickly to make sure that it wasn’t just a dream after all.

Beside her was, in fact, a very disheveled Fred Weasley. His hair stood up in so many directions it almost rivaled her own, and his mouth hung wide open. Had she really kissed that mouth? Hermione began to giggle.

“What could possibly be so funny at this ungodly hour?” Fred grumbled, pulling Hermione tighter against his chest and squinting his eyes against the light filtering through the shades.

Suppressing her laughter, Hermione responded. “We have to get up to meet Elliot, Fred!” she said, her voice muffled against his skin. She began to laugh again, giddiness overwhelming her at the feeling of his hands tracing up her back, his lips on the top of her head, his legs intertwined with hers.

“What’s that?” Fred asked, rolling over her and trapping her beneath him, the ghost of a smirk crossing his lips. “You have to stay here and snog a devilishly handsome redhead?”

Hermione was loath to resist him, really. The second his lips were on hers again, the giggles ceased and she thought of nothing but the hard planes of his body where they met hers. His kisses last night had been gentle and careful and playful. Now they were scorching, leaving her gasping for breath as he kissed her neck and nipped at her collarbones. His hips pressed down against her and with a start she realized how ready he was for more than just kissing. She was rather pleased with herself, actually, that she could elicit that sort of response in someone like Fred, who, if his dating past was anything to go by, had far more experience with this sort of thing than Hermione did.

“What are you smiling about, then?” Fred asked as he pulled away from her.

Hermione shrugged in response, as she felt heat creep up her neck, her eyes meeting his for long enough to catch the mischievous twinkle that foreshadowed his next move.

Without warning, he pinned her arms above her head with one hand and began mercilessly tickling her with the other.

Hermione’s laughter filled the air and Fred felt more relaxed than he’d realized was possible. He tickled her until she was gasping for air. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wild, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t identify. He’d never seen her like this, but he made a mental note to get her this way as frequently as possible in the future.

*          *          *

“You must be Elliot! Thank you so much for all of your help – I can’t even begin to thank you for everything you’ve done for me!” Hermione beamed.

“Don’t thank me yet, love. Let’s make sure they’re your parents first, yeah?” Elliot offered Hermione his arm and Fred couldn’t help the scowl that erupted as she took it. They’d kissed a few times, said they fancied each other, sure, but that hardly put them in any kind of relationship. He had no right to be jealous.

Then Hermione looked back over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a warm smile. His jealousy instantly melted away, replaced by smug satisfaction. Elliot may have gotten her arm, but Fred was the one who would get to pull her into bed and kiss her all night long.

*          *          *

Elliot was charming, if a bit overly friendly for Hermione’s taste. He’d treated her and Fred to breakfast at a sweet little shop near their hotel, and then insisted on taking Hermione’s arm for the entire walk to her parents’ neighborhood. She’d shot nervous smiles over her shoulder at Fred every so often, mostly to reassure herself that he really was still there with her. She wished it was his arm looped through hers. Even if she left out all of the lovely events that had transpired in the past few hours, Hermione was glad that he was there with her. It was strange. Only a few months of friendship with Fred and somehow he seemed to know her better than Ron and Harry had after seven years.

She turned over her shoulder again and he winked at her. Hermione felt her cheeks heat as she turned back to Elliot’s explanation of the layout of the city. Normally, Hermione would have been completely absorbed, but the boy behind her cared about her and they were going to find her parents. _Her parents._ Finally.

*          *          *

Hermione’s eyes welled with tears as she walked quickly away from the coffee shop where Elliot had pointed them out. Those were her parents. She’d recognize her father’s mess of blonde hair, her mother’s kind honey eyes anywhere. They were more freckled, perhaps, than they’d been when she’d seen them last. They were maybe a little tanner. But clearly the time away had been good for them. She couldn’t remember ever seeing them so relaxed.

They hadn’t really worked since she sent them away, of course. It was sort of an early retirement, and they’d clearly enjoyed it. They’d enjoyed their life without a daughter. Her tears of excitement quickly turned to sobs.

Fred had followed her as she escaped the confined street where they’d first seen her parents. He hadn’t needed Elliot to point out the couple on the couch, clearly enjoying their Saturday morning with a cup of tea and the paper. The woman, petite like her daughter, had clearly given Hermione her eyes. Her hair was darker, and her face rounder, but when he met those eyes by chance, he felt as though he was looking into the eyes of the bookworm he’d become so fond of.

Hermione looked less like her father, though she could tell that her wild tangle of curls had come from the serious man with the toothbrush mustache and tortoiseshell glasses. He was tall and broad, and he looked like he might have once been a beater, back in the day, had he had the chance.

Fred had only gotten a moment to look at them before Hermione slipped away, weaving through the crowded city street and into a nearby alleyway. She seemed to think that she was alone as the quiet tears streaming down her face gave way to gasping, wracking sobs.

Without a thought, he was holding her, muffling her gasps into his shirt, running his fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm her. He said nothing. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to take away his parents’ memories of him, and then to see them again knowing that they may never remember him. He waited until she was ready to talk to him.

“They seem – so – h-ha-happy!” she sobbed miserably into his shirt.

“You gave them quite a nice life, Hermione. I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be happy,” he murmured back as his hands rubbed soothing circles against the small of her back.

“They’re ha-happier without m-me,” she gasped before her sobs began anew.

“Oh, Hermione. They just don’t know any better. I can promise you that once anyone gets to know you, there is no way they could prefer life without you.” As he spoke the words, he realized just how true they were. Now that he knew Hermione for more than just a bookworm, know-it-all prefect who got in the way of his and George’s important work, he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.

She pulled away from his chest then, and looked at him with an incredulity that he couldn’t comprehend. How could she not know that about herself? After all of those years with Harry and Ron, how could she not know how important she was?

“What if I can’t do the charm, Fred?” The fear in her eyes was plain.

“There’s never been a charm you couldn’t do.”

“Then what if they never forgive me?” she whispered, meeting his eyes finally, with a look that nearly broke him.

“Why don’t we stop wondering and go find out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, beautiful, lovely, patient readers. Thank you all so much for waiting a month (a month!) for this chapter. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t get it to you sooner, and I’m so sorry that it will probably be another little while before I am able to post again, but I’m so glad that you’re still here, reading with me. Grad school is time-consuming, but I have every intention of finishing this story for you all. Thank you for your patience, and your sweet messages of support. They mean the world to me. Sending all my love your way.  
> -E. Leigh


	19. Hospitality

They’d said their goodbyes and thank yous to Elliot, who left graciously after Hermione’s red-eyed return. He told her to let him know if they needed anything but Fred knew that she wouldn’t. Hermione was quite the capable witch, and for his part, he didn’t like the way the older wizard looked at his new girlfriend.

Her tea was sloshing over the edges of her teacup and splashing the steaming water onto her hands. Hermione didn’t even seem to notice her burns as she gathered her courage to go sit across from the strangers that were once her parents. Fred didn’t think he’d ever seen her so flustered.

“Deep breaths,” he murmured, leaning down to mutter in her ear.

He watched her shoulders rise and fall and then she began to move towards the low coffee table again, with slow steady steps and the Gryffindor courage that had gotten her through everything that she’d made it through so far.

She sat carefully across from her parents, setting her now half-empty mug on a coaster. She sat at the edge of the settee, her foot bouncing incessantly. If she didn’t calm herself, she would scare off her parents entirely.

Fred sat beside her, resting his hand gently on her leg to stop the bouncing and meeting her eyes reassuringly. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man sitting across from him. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve finished with the sport section. Would you mind terribly if I had a look?”

Mr. Granger smiled kindly. “Of course not, my boy. You’re from Britain, then? It’s rare I get to hear someone else with my accent!”

“Oh yes, I’m from Devon. My girlfriend Hermione, here, is from London.”

Mrs. Granger looked startled momentarily but quickly shook it off, looking at Hermione with a kind of longing. “That’s a lovely name, dear. I always said that if Wendell and I had a girl, we’d name her Hermione.”

“You don’t have a daughter then?” Hermione asked quietly, wringing her hands in her lap. She seemed unable to meet her mother’s eyes. Her gaze flickered around the café, lighting on art and faces momentarily before fluttering along to its next destination.

“We were unable to conceive, unfortunately,” Mr. Granger replied sadly. He clearly loved her. Fred could see it in his gaze, in the way his hand rested protectively on the small of his wife’s back. It was no wonder, with so much love in her life, that Hermione had become the woman she was now. He wanted more than anything to be able to give her these people back, the way she remembered them.

There was a momentary silence.

“I…er… well do you think you could recommend anywhere for Fred and I to eat tonight? We’re just here for a little while and local recommendations are always the best,” Hermione asked. Her eyes were fixed on her father now, as if she were waiting for something.

“Oh well I have the best list for you!” he exclaimed.

“Oh Wendell, these kids don’t want your list they just want—”

“Nonsense, Monica. Hermione and, Fred, was it? Hermione and Fred will let me know if they don’t want the list. But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, now does it? You see, I’ve made a list of every restaurant we’ve been to since we moved here about a year ago and what we’ve tried and what we thought. We live around the corner! If you don’t mind walking there with us, I can make you a copy!”

Fred grinned. Clever witch knew he’d do that.

“Oh, we don’t want to inconvenience you,” Hermione ventured.

“Oh, Hermione, you have no idea how long he’s wanted to share this list with someone other than me. It won’t be any trouble at all,” Mrs. Granger replied.

*          *          *

They were in her parents’ home. She had to admit, Monica and Wendell certainly had…different tastes than the Grangers’ understated style. Everything in their small Australian home was tropical or floral or loud. There was very little that she recognized from their life together. Certainly there were no photos of her with her parents, but gone were the blue teacups with all the chips they’d acquired through stuffed animal tea times and late night reading sessions. Gone was her great-grandmother’s wooden coffee table that had, one day when she was about four, become a stage on which she could dance and perform and entertain her parents.

“Let me just grab this list from the study and make you a copy. I’ll be right back!” Mr. Granger said excitedly, leaving them with his wife in the living room.

“I just made some cookies yesterday,” she said. “Would you two like some?”

Hermione nodded gratefully and Mrs. Granger made her way to the kitchen.

Hermione’s face was drained of all its color but her mouth had taken on the determined grimace that told Fred she was prepared for whatever happened. “I guess it’s now or never, then.”

“I’ll be right here,” he replied.

She stepped quietly into the doorway of the kitchen, pulling her wand from her boot as she did so. She leveled it at her mother’s back. Hermione’s magic had always been tied irrevocably to her emotions, drawing its strength from the apprehension, elation, or heartbreak that consumed her. When she had cast those memory charms on her parents a lifetime ago, she had been more distraught and heartbroken than she could bear. She hoped that the anxiety buzzing through her veins would give her magic the power it had before.

“ _Resurrecto_ ,” she whispered as she twisted her wand and focused on the parents that she’d lost a year and a half ago.

She didn’t look to see the result before turning to find her father and performing the same spell. When she returned to the kitchen, she found her mother sobbing by the sink.

“Mum?” she murmured, scared to hope. _What if it didn’t work?_

“Hermione?” her mother said, wiping her eyes and turning to face her daughter. “I’m so confused. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t we go sit in the den and have a chat with dad too,” Hermione suggested, reaching for her mother’s hand and hoping that the older woman wouldn’t notice the shaking that she was trying so hard to control.

*          *          *

All in all, it had gone better than Hermione could have dreamed. Because, well, she’d dreamed it several times, actually, and each one had ended in tears and heartbreak and pain so large it felt like the desert. But this almost felt normal. It almost felt like catching up at the end of a school term over a cup of tea. Almost like she was bringing her new boyfriend round for biscuits. Almost.

The edges of the conversation were tinged with the discomfort of a new pair of shoes – similar to the ones you’d replaced, but only just different. There was the newfound hurt, the loneliness of the last two years seeping in. There were all of the things that Hermione needed to tell them about the war that she refused to say in this first time seeing them in so long. There were all of the unasked questions that weighed down the air between them.

Fred, of course, couldn’t feel the changes, but he could see it in Hermione’s expression, and he tried to brush it from her mind with hardly noticeable touches to her knee as he reached for his teacup, the small of her back as she leaned towards her mum.

With each of these, Hermione’s mother gave a small smile and glanced at her husband. The looks went unnoticed by the new couple, who sat wrapped in their own world, even while they spoke to the Grangers. Claire knew she’d have to speak to her daughter about the redhead that had accompanied her. By all accounts, this was not the redhead boy that she’d expected Hermione to show up with. Though it did seem this one was treating her well.

After a few hours of chatter about England and Australia, Hermione stood.

“Mum, dad – Fred and I should probably be going. We’ll have quite a bit of packing to do tomorrow, and all of us ought to get some sleep,” she said.

“Hermione dear, of course you don’t have to go. You’ll sleep here!” her mother protested.

“Mum, you don’t even have a guest room,” Hermione responded. “We’re staying at a hotel a few minutes’ walk from here. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“You promise you’ll come back, then?” her father said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

By way of response, Hermione hugged her parents.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear, lovely readers. I could give you so many excuses as to why it's taken me so long to get this to you, but I won't. The truth is that I was uninspired. But I am so glad to be back with all of you. Thank you for your messages while I was away. They made me want to continue this story for all of you. I know that this is a filler chapter, but from here we should get a bit more interesting.
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for your patience and your time and your love for this story.
> 
> -E. Leigh


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